


Flanking Maneuver

by chipperdyke



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Best not to speculate, Extreme angst, F/F, Jaina POV, Nobody knows what Sylvanas is up to, Ooops I speculated, Shadowlands, Smut, Suicidal Ideation, magic baby
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:22:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27131750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chipperdyke/pseuds/chipperdyke
Summary: Even as she struggles to reconcile her values with her feelings for the Horde's Warchief, Jaina works with the Horde loyalists and the Alliance leadership to depose Sylvanas. And although Sylvanas doesn't yet know it, she and Jaina share more than the memory of one midnight tryst.Featuring an angsty, thirsty Jaina and a canon-compliant, morally gray Sylvanas, with the main plot picking up post-BfA in Chapter 3.
Relationships: Jaina Proudmoore/Sylvanas Windrunner
Comments: 68
Kudos: 198





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I lied and I'm writing Sylvania now.

Jaina dreamed of the Broken Shore. At Varian's side, as leader of the Kirin Tor of Dalaran, she met with Vol'jin the Warchief and his champions to repel the Burning Legion. They had decided that the Alliance would take point if the opportunity arose, with the Horde covering their flank. As they had before, the Alliance and Horde would fight together to defeat their mutual enemy. The meeting occurred on a Horde battleship en route to the shoreline. That much was true. 

After the meeting, Sylvanas drew Jaina away from the rest. Sylvanas had access to private quarters on the Horde ship, that much was true. 

Sylvanas approached Jaina closely, looking into her eyes with her unsettling red gaze. She asked Jaina what she usually did to prepare for battle. Jaina said, "I examine my enemies. I study their strategies. I plan my attack carefully." And that - that much was true. 

Sylvanas's grip was hard on Jaina's shoulder. It was Sylvanas who dealt the first blow, a strike at the gut that would have been dishonorable if the Banshee Queen cared at all for honor. As it was, Jaina cursed her own naivety in meeting with a deadly foe privately, and she flung Sylvanas down with a blast of ice. Rather than leaving Sylvanas on the ground, she pressed her offensive, pinning the Forsaken beneath her, locking both her hands against the deck with a grip that should have been unbreakable. 

Sylvanas grinned and flipped them over without a thought. She straddled Jaina, and Jaina surrounded her body with a glimmering shield as Sylvanas stabbed her again, sharply, right through the shield. Jaina's body wracked and wept blood onto the bare, rotten wood of the Forsaken ship. And then Jaina surged upward, holding Sylvanas's neck, wrapping Sylvanas's body tightly with bonds of magic. She tightened herself around Sylvanas, and Sylvanas choked and fell, without life or undeath, to the floor. 

Jaina woke up in a sweat and turned on her side, working to regulate her breathing. The strange underwater noises of sleepless Nazjatar entered her ears, and she shuddered, remembering herself. She'd escaped the battle of Broken Shore a year ago - no, a year, and four months. She knew it to the day. The threat of the Burning Legion had passed, but that was due to the efforts of many brave souls, and not the efforts of Jaina. Because when Sylvanas drew her away from the war room that day, it had not been murder on her mind. If only it had been. 

Jaina pushed herself upright, smelling the sharp scent of brine. The holdfast of Mezzamere was at the bottom of the sea, and the smell reminded Jaina of home. Still, her dream unsettled her, and she dressed and left the claustrophobic hut to walk outside. She could see the shimmering magical barrier that held back the sea, stretching upward for legions upon legions until the sea gave way to open air.

It was early in the morning, and the fishermen were already preparing their gear. Their faces were lizard-like, incessantly grinning, but Jaina was comfortable with alien faces and she waved at them from her camp at the edge of the ruins. 

Two waved back, grinning more broadly, and Jaina shivered, turning away. She'd forgotten her cloak, and the air felt chill to her skin. She was used to the humidity and heat of Kul Tiras now, and this place would always feel alien to her.

She paced away, past the campfire which exuded a cold heat to her skin, and up to the ridge. Her portal to Boralus glimmered dimly, and she considered passing through it, entering the twilit realm of her fathers, where, too, fishermen would be preparing their gear, and the cacophony of the docks might drown out the sound of her thoughts. The light of the sun would paint a dim half-moon on the horizon, and the sky would gradually light up in gray. 

No. She couldn't bear to go back there, because when she visited Boralus the next portal led to Stormwind, and she'd be too tempted to simply drift through now, before her scheduled meeting with Anduin and his small council. She'd fly to the eastern sector, and circle a humble cottage, just to look through the window. The curtain would be drawn, as it should be in the early morning, and she'd circle on foot once more with the hope of just hearing a sound. A voice, protesting the injustice of a life that its soul had not chosen. 

She could not go. She could not hear that voice. 

She turned from the portal, skirting the edge of the cliff, and tried to settle there. She took in the view of the rocky shoreline, the ridges marred by game and war trails, the deep, clear water. The dying seaweed which left a stench where it wilted. The long, surreal pillars of rock, teetering on narrow legs. In every place Jaina visited, she tried to appreciate it for what it was. What it offered. She would not be back here once their task was done. 

Sylvanas Windrunner - the subject of her dream, the subject of so many nightmares - re-introduced herself in her mind as she so often did. She had been responsible for the destruction of the united Kul Tiran and Alliance fleet, Jaina was certain of it. She'd burned Teldrassil. She'd destroyed what was left of Lordaeron. No matter what might have been - it was not. She twisted the Horde to her own purposes. She turned good people into enemies. 

She'd abandoned them all at Broken Shore, leaving Anduin an orphan and a king, although he was as young as Jaina was when she led her people across the sea to Durotar to escape the Burning Legion the first time. Sylvanas was irredeemable, a monster. The same monster she'd been all along. And she'd never tried to pretend she was anything else.

Her voice whispered fleetingly in Jaina's mind. _I never took you for one who'd bed a monster._

"No," Jaina muttered. She brushed her hands on her robe and stood stiffly, watching a stray titan far below as it whisked up a crab and flung it high into the air. The crab fell on its back in the sand, and Jaina turned sharply away, not wishing to watch the crab try to right itself again. 

  
  


Jaina arrived at the meeting in Stormwind Keep angry. Her dream this morning had left a sour taste in the back of her throat, and she’d spent the morning and afternoon with her elemental. This spirit had bound to her, and was as familiar to her as a dog might be to a woman who led a more normal life. Jaina thought that this particular spirit had been with her since the Third War. The spirit had lived long before she bound them, and would live after she was long-gone.

This morning, when she approached the shoreline and summoned the spirit, she tried to breathe in the spirit's essence as they emerged from the ether. The whirl of water formed up, and then immediately approached her, lapping at her fingertips. She stepped directly into their body, feeling their water on her skin, through her cloak and her robes, as they sought out each crevice of her being. She was a thing of physical shape, and they were not, and yet they could still feel each other through that deep divide. 

Or maybe she commanded them to consume her, and in fact it was not so much trained as broken to her will. Some days she stepped into the storm of her elemental and wished that they would not avoid her lips and mouth. Sometimes she wished to breathe in the water, enough that it would fill her lungs, enough that even the most clever resurrection spell that the Alliance could bring forth would not be enough. She’d slip past the Shadowlands, and into Death, and in that place she might be able to forget. 

“N’zoth is coming,” she announced as she arrived in Stormwind Keep's small council chamber. "It is clear that unless we take immediate action to delay Azshara, we will have another Old God on our hands."

Anduin liked to pack the hall with as many Alliance figureheads as he could on any particular day, and this was her first report back after the initial announcement of her failure and the loss of the Alliance and Kul Tiran fleet a week past. She was surprised to glimpse rhe distinctive figure of Baine Bloodhoof, who stood away from the rest, cloaked in shadow to the extent that was possible for a Tauren. She’d rescued Baine from imprisonment in Orgrimmar just a few days ago, and the old Tauren stood with his massive hoofs carefully planted among the smaller races. 

Anduin had arranged five chairs around his war table, but he was the only one seated. The rest of his “small” council was standing on the edges of the table, hesitant to commit, or perhaps unsure as to their intended place. The boy should have asked her before setting up the table as it was - it was an arrangement doomed to failure, without some careful maneuvering beforehand, which he clearly hadn’t done. Anduin shifted uncomfortably, red-faced as he turned to face Jaina in the entryway. 

Jaina planted her feet, surveying them all. “In Nazjatar, you can feel the naga’s presence in every waking moment. She intends to awake her master."

She was met with blank stares, and several elf ears twitching backwards. Protective, or aggressive, it was still impossible for Jaina to tell. She might live another thirty-seven years after this in the presence of elves, and still find their expressions inscrutable. 

“Oh,” Anduin exclaimed, standing at his seat beside the war map. “Jaina, good of you to join us.” 

Jaina sneered, and then thought better of it and worked to neutralize her expression before the assemblage. It had been nearly a year and a half of Anduin’s reign, and while the boy king could occasionally be impulsive, Jaina certainly couldn’t say better of herself at his age. He relied upon her, she reminded herself, and shot a quick glance at Wrathion as the young dragon simmered on the sidelines. 

Wrathion had warned them of the effects of the Old God’s corruption. That corruption had started at the highest ranks of the Alliance, and surely Jaina, as the Alliance’s front-line champion in Nazjatar, experienced its influence more than most. Jaina should be careful - it was not only Azshara’s presence that she felt urgently in that void beneath the sea. 

“We understand that High Arcanist Thalyssra is present there,” Vereesa Windrunner said out of the shadows. She approached the table carefully, measuring each glance around the gathering. "Lord Admiral, is she the primary leader of the Horde in Nazjatar?"

Jaina was placated slightly by the use of her newly-earned title. “I do not know,” Jaina answered honestly, meeting the high elf’s gaze.

This was the sister of Sylvanas, Jaina recalled in a rush. In fact she was able to detect the distinctive features Sylvanas shared with her sister - the shape of her ears, the white-blond hair, the profile of her face. Jaina was not surprised to note her cold silver-white eyes, which Jaina met with distaste mixed with a reluctant recognition. Sylvanas’s eyes were red, but her sister’s weren’t. 

Jaina’s train of thought was interrupted by Baine, who stood conspicuously on the gathering’s outer edges. He took careful, ponderous steps, and a few of the gathered members stepped out of his way as he approached the war table. Baine said, “Surely this farce is over. The Horde loyalists stand ready to march on Orgrimmar tomorrow. What could be more urgent than confronting the corrupt Warchief, who continues to seed discord and treason in our ranks? Wouldn't you like to see this war finally ended?”

Of course, Baine and Jaina would find themselves on the same side, only to oppose each other nearly immediately. Jaina felt a flicker of resentment. 

"I have a plan," Jaina said, addressing Anduin. "Barring complications, I should be able to end Azshara's influence tomorrow. But my success hinges on your ability to provide me the troops I've requested."

“What of the Tidestone of Golganneth?” Anduin inquired, looking at her sharply. “From what I understand, we have no hope of confronting Azshara without it. Have you located it?”

“You’re correct, High King,” Jaina said slowly. She took a step back from the table, and Baine and Vereesa took small steps forward, within reach of the table. “And we have found it.” 

She swept the war table clear of its maps and miniatures, and projected an image of Nazjatar instead. “We believe that it is located here.” She highlighted the region on the virtual map, and noted with satisfaction that the King’s advisors seemed to lean forward to see more clearly. 

“Tomorrow, I plan to open the way to Azshara's palace using the Tidestone. Magni's champion has fully empowered the Heart of Azeroth. We expect that this champion and her unit, with my assistance, will be able to break through the naga’s lines and confront her directly. I've requested that you provide two other units of Alliance warriors to follow behind, if we are unsuccessful on our first attempt."

“It is a good plan,” Anduin said after a pause. He shot a glance at Baine and Vereesa, clearly wondering whether either would question Jaina. "You ask for a lot - we won't be able to commit any troops to Durotar in the meantime. But you say it might be over by tomorrow evening."

"Yes. It should be."

Baine stretched his shoulders, and his arms reached over six of Anduin’s counselors. “You will defeat Azshara, and then we will bring the matter to Sylvanas.”

Sylvanas. Jaina looked up at Baine, mind whirring. The Horde was finally questioning the Banshee Queen's leadership after a series of dishonorable, destructive military strikes. Jaina should be glad, but she remembered the soft purple skin, the red eyes, the gentle touch, and in her heart a worm of worry fed. 

The Old God’s corruption could take many forms, Jaina reminded herself, which included trepidation and forgiveness. She straightened her spine, took the right-hand seat at Anduin’s war table. “Sylvanas has a lot to answer for,” she agreed, and then they bent to the war map to prepare.

The portal back to Nazjatar was not so far from Stormwind Keep, but still Jaina found reason to linger. She visited the local merchants in the east, sold them some knick knacks and baubles from Nazjatar. She circled the cottage, passing behind it on the clifftop above twice before she glimpsed any movement outside.

There was a garden behind the cottage, and Helda liked to go outside with the babies in the afternoon when the sun was fully out. She brought them both outside, one on each substantial hip, and set them next to each other on the ground as she dug and seeded the empty ground. The air was still cold in Stormwind, but the young woman had not wasted any time in gathering soil and seed for her garden.

The infants squalled, and Helda rushed to them and helped them to sit upright. They pawed at each other, little lions, and Helda focused her energy on the garden. One fell over, and the other dove toward his playmate. The shriek was audible even from Jaina’s distant perch, on a clifftop that faced the cottage’s garden.

Helda turned quickly back to the infants, and picked the bright-eyed one up with a simple swoop of her arm. She scolded them both, and then picked up the dark-eyed one too and brought them both back inside the cottage. 

Jaina made her way back to Nazjatar. She wrapped herself up in her bedroll, in her tiny hut, and thought about that infant's silver eyes until the void consumed her, and the nightmares began.


	2. Chapter 2

_Jaina,_

_I hope that this letter reaches you in time. I have some information to share with you regarding Azshara which may prove important. Will you meet me outside Thunder Bluff at dawn tomorrow?_

_-Baine_

Jaina sighed and looked up from the note at the sky above Nazjatar, which appeared through the narrow round hole created by the Tidestone. The energy of the Tidestone's barrier glimmered faintly around the edge. Surely the naga didn't prefer their city to be exposed to the air - yet Azshara had not brought the tide back, which might mean that the change was permanent. A curiosity in the world, then. 

The sky was still brightening, even through that tiny window, which meant she was probably not late to meet Baine. She closed the mailbox and burned the note in her hand, and then she began tracing the portal runes. For anyone else, it would have been nearly impossible to go to the Horde-controlled city, but Jaina had just opened a portal there last week. 

She waited on the hilltop above Thunder Bluff. She admired the ever-green hills that surrounded the Tauren city, protecting it from incursion from all directions but the south. She noted new anti-air catapults set up on the hillock in the center of the city, pointed in the direction of Orgrimmar, and temporary tents set up around its base.

Baine's heavy footfalls shook the ground as he approached her from behind, alone. 

"You're already preparing for war," Jaina observed without looking over at him. 

"It would be foolish not to," Baine said. His voice usually sounded sluggish and sleepy to her ears, and moreso now. "We all know what Sylvanas is capable of. Her retaliation will be swift."

"Have you spoken?" Jaina asked him, turning to face him. 

"Not since the meeting when she forced me to expose myself," Baine rumbled. 

Jaina hadn't realized that Baine actually confessed. "You didn't have to do that," she said, as if he needed her to tell him.

Baine groaned deep in his chest. "I am old, Jaina. My father was old when Thrall first met my people, and now I follow in his hoof-treads. We have always been a people more habituated to peace than war. Most of all, we have always made war with honor. Sylvanas has not a drop of honorable blood in her body. I never thought that the Warchief would grant me mercy for what I did, but I was certain that at least some portions of the Horde would support me."

"You knew that you'd incite a civil war when you turned over Jon Wrynn," Jaina realized, wonderingly. 

"It was never what I wanted," Baine said slowly. Jaina waited for him to finish, but he didn't add anything else.

Sensing an opening, Jaina asked, "What is Sylvanas really after? You've seen her in meetings. What does she say?"

Baine sighed ponderously. "She has made it quite clear that she expected the Alliance to strike against us. To strike first, she said, would give us the advantage. It was not true." He gathered his breath, and Jaina let him think.

In the pause, Jaina remembered the tenderness of Sylvanas's touch. The bright look in her eye as she breathed in the scent of Jaina's body. _Life smells so good,_ she'd said, grinning ferally, and if she had not been so gentle Jaina would have thought her predatory. But Jaina had never been afraid, although she kept her staff close, propped up against the left side of the bed. Sylvanas's dagger was sheathed on the bedside table, her bow mirroring Jaina's staff, jammed in the crevice between the bed and the table. Neither of them reached for their weapons. Neither had thought for even a moment that the other would. They'd been in rapture, and the night had felt like it would never end. How well their bodies fit together. How perfect Sylvanas had felt under Jaina's fingers, between Jaina's legs, inside Jaina's mouth. She thought that night that she knew Sylvanas in her deepest core. How wrong she'd been, and even now the contrast between the Sylvanas of Jaina's memory and the actual woman was so stark as to be shocking.

"But I wished to meet with you before you struck at Azshara's stronghold for a different reason," Baine continued.

Jaina shook herself out of the daze of remembrance. "Why was she so certain that we would strike?" she asked instead. "Because, in case you didn't know, the entire leadership of the Alliance was completely surprised by the strike on Teldrassil. They thought we'd finally found peace." 

The Eastern Kingdoms had been sufficiently removed from the conflict that she'd found out the war with the Burning Legion was over by newspaper. She'd rejoiced. She thought that soon, she'd be able to rejoin the united Horde and Alliance. Perhaps she'd go to broken Lordaeron, see what the Banshee Queen had made of the sewers. Little had she expected that when she finally was able to travel, she'd be going to meet Andiun's army at Lordaeron's gates in a retributive strike. 

Baine looked at her face searchingly. "From what I understand, Jaina, you entirely removed yourself from the conflict. How would you have known that the Alliance was not readying their own decisive strike?"

"I fought," Jaina snapped. "I tracked the Burning Legion down where I could find them, as they attempted to broach the Eastern Kingdom. I was not able to reconcile the Kirin Tor's decision to allow the Horde back into Dalaran after their betrayal at the Battle of Broken Shore, but that does not mean that I did not fight." 

It had been Sylvanas she did not want to see. How her entire world, her destiny, had revolved around that moment of betrayal at Broken Shore. How she so vehemently wished that it had not been.

She sighed, trying to meet his beady, serious eyes. He looked back at her with something that looked like understanding. "Baine, when I found out about Teldrassil, I cried as much for the night elves as I did for the end of peace. I went to Stormwind to offer my help, and found the entire Alliance court as dismayed as I was. All I have ever been was a warrior. If there was anyone who longed for peace, it would be me." She almost said something more, but bit her tongue and resisted it. 

Baine nodded slowly. "And so with the Tauren," he said. "Normally we do not contribute troops to the Horde's legions, except in moments of great conflict. Sylvanas manipulated us into this war, but my soldiers are taking the long journey around the western mountains to meet us on foot. They have already begun to arrive. It will be the rare Tauren that stands with Sylvanas when the Horde loyalists march on Orgrimmar."

Some hint of hesitation must have shown itself in Jaina's expression, because he sighed again. 

"We want only peace, Lord Admiral."

"After so much conflict, there is little left to destroy," Jaina agreed, and then she shot a look over her shoulder at the breaking dawn. "Now, I have promised Anduin I'd neutralize Azshara today. His champions have already begun to arrive in Nazjatar. What more do you have to say to me?"

"Two things," Baine said, and faced away from her, toward the west. The sky was only showing gray lightness there. "Sylvanas traded a dagger for the destruction of the Alliance and Kul Tiran fleet. I think that Azshara has it now. It is a dagger from days past. A dagger that might have the power to release an Old God. I think that is the only reason N'Zoth appears to be so close to being released."

"The other is more… personal. One of Sylvanas's agents accidentally… recovered the body of Derek Proudmoore a few months past. Nathanos Blightcaller has asked the Banshee Queen several times to raise him and turn him to their purposes. It was the recovery of _his_ body that sparked the idea of finding Jon Wrynn and raising him instead." 

Jon Wrynn was Varian’s long-lost brother, Anduin’s uncle, who'd died in the Second War before ever ascending to the throne. Jaina knew that the High King’s uncle would have been an effective weapon in the Banshee Queen's arsenal, if she'd been able to influence and control him as she intended. The boy was desperate enough for a father figure that he might have even taken a Forsaken. Luckily, the new Forsaken appeared to be utterly uninterested in influencing Anduin. 

Baine sighed. "I do not know what Sylvanas is planning, but I thought that you might want to know."

"Thank you." Jaina imagined her older brother as she remembered him - handsome, infinitely capable and brave, full of stories of his life of adventure - and then imagined him a risen zombie with a soul that was tortured by Death's persistent knocking. She wondered if any of his body was still intact - what if he was a skeleton? Surely he was recognizable, if they'd planned to raise him.

She shook her head. When had she begun thinking of death as impermanent? Would she have actually wanted him back? And why had Sylvanas refused to use Derek's body, going through the effort of infiltrating Stormwind and robbing the Wrynn tombs instead?   
  


In Mezzamere, Jaina met with Magni's champion in a foul state of mind. The little gnome tinkered with her toolkit at one of the tables by the portal, and Jaina snapped, "Where is your strike team?"

"Lady Jai - oh, I mean, Lady Proudmoore. Lord Admiral. They're waiting in the north, Lady."

She hated the gnome. She hated all gnomes, actually, but this one in particular irked her. "Have you any rogues in your party?"

"One or two," the gnome said. "One or two, I'm sure. I think - yeah, Hal and Uken, they are suuuuper sneaky."

"Sneaky," Jaina repeated incredulously. "Are they capable? Could they stand against Azshara's wrath?"

"All by themselves? Who knows, lady," the gnome said, shrugging. "But who could, really?"

Jaina tampered down the urge to strangle her. "Will you instruct them to steal a dagger from Azshara when we confront her? I expect that I will be able to fight the old naga myself, but I don't know what surprises she might have in store. Best to be ready."

"Aaaaasolutely," the gnome said cheerfully. "Of course."

"Good," Jaina said, straightening her shoulders, looking to the north. "Can you repeat back what I asked you to do?"

The gnome looked up at her. “I’m gonna ask Hal and Uken to steal the naga’s dagger from her during our _epic battle._ And they’ll bring the dagger over to you, because you’ll be right there behind us.”

It took Jaina two weeks after her visit to Ny'alotha to recover sufficiently from the corruption. She spent that time in her hut on the outskirts of the dwarven village of Kirthaven. It had been the most remote location she could find at the time she purchased it, and in the three months she stayed there it had become familiar. The villagers were not friendly, but over time Jaina had gotten to know a few of them. She told them she was fleeing conflict in Stormwind, and although few refugees made it over the mountains from the human kingdoms, the dwarves did not seem to particularly care what brought her there. 

It had been a long time since she entered this hut - seven months, now. She found it as she left it, down to the rotten remains of the food she’d kept here and the books that had overwhelmed the built-in shelves and begun claiming floorspace along the edges of the room. The dwarves had not reclaimed the spot, which made her wonder if they knew more about her than they let on. 

When she arrived, she opened the windows and cleaned the place, burned about half the books in a massive bonfire behind the cottage, and purchased more food at the open-air market before laying down in the bed and wrapping herself in those old blankets. At the time she last left this hut, her mental state was a disaster. But for the majority of her time here last year, she was genuinely happy. She tried to acknowledge the ghost of that feeling without getting sucked into the specific memory of what had made her happy then. When she failed she wept until sleep claimed her.

The next day, Jaina woke thinking of the small champion that had given her life to defeat N'Zoth. She reminded her of another gnome, her apprentice, who'd lost her life along with the remainder of Theramore so many years ago. Years, that sometimes felt like months to Jaina. She shouldn't have been so harsh with the little hero. Ultimately, the defeat of Azshara and N'Zoth had come down to the gnome and her companions, helped in no small part by agents of the Horde. Specifically, High Arcanist Thalyssra and her men. 

The High Arcanist had dropped a few hints that she had begun to doubt Sylvanas's leadership. That was good, Jaina reminded herself. The more allies Baine could gather when he finally marched on Orgrimmar, the better. Still, a part of her heart ached. She wished it were not so. She wished Sylvanas had proven equal to the challenge of leading the Forsaken as well as the Horde. Instead, the banshee had used underhanded tactics to sink the Alliance fleet, and provided Azshara the means she had needed to free her master from his bonds. Jaina cursed her heart for feeling betrayed by that, although by this time it was the least of Sylvanas's betrayals.

Thalyssra had said something during their conversation that stuck with Jaina. She remembered their exchange, trying to pinpoint that piece of information that might prove essential in their assault of Orgrimmar, for which troops were already moving on both sides. 

_Jaina and Thalyssra fell into step as they approached the Tidestone, the gateway to Azshara's lair. Jaina said, "The Banshee Queen deliberately sunk the last of the Horde's ships. Now it seems she plans to retaliate against Thunder Bluff. Baine is ready."_

_The High Arcanist sighed. "He will have our support if he chooses to secede."_

_"I think he intends to act a bit more - decisively."_

_"I understand." The High Arcanist didn't speak for a while. "Sylvanas is Warchief, but she doesn't act for the Horde's benefit. She has another plan who nobody is privy to, except perhaps Blightcaller." Nathanos Blightcaller, Sylvanas's second in command and if the rumors were true, sometimes lover. Jaina's heart went cold, as it always did, at the mention of his name._

_"Does her plan involve recruiting as many dead bodies as she can? Because all she seems to be interested in is death."_

_"Death," the High Arcanist repeated. "Interesting that you'd use that word. But she has not been raising any of the fallen. She has raised nobody but Jon Wrynn since the Fourth War began."_

_"It would be good to know what foul machinations she has planned so that we are not all turned against one another again. Somehow she always manages to throw smoke and mirrors up, and when the dust settles she is unscathed, and on top. Someone should rid this world of her blight, once and for all."_

_"Few could." The High Arcanist chuckled. "Perhaps we should allow N'Zoth to escape his prison and somehow compel Sylvanas herself to face him. One or the other would fall, and the world would be better off regardless of which it was."_

It was the mention of death. Death, or death? Jaina had meant the latter, but the former was likely closer to Thalyssra's train of thought. Was there something that Jaina was missing, some significance of Death? Jaina knew that the undead heard his whispers. Was Death Sylvanas's ultimate master? It would explain much.

When she thought she was sufficiently rid of the corruption from Ny'alotha, Jaina followed the same path she’d taken when she left her hut in Kirthaven the last time. She drew a portal to the outskirts of Stormwind, and approached the city with a brown cloak wrapped around her body, hood drawn. She passed by the civilian hospital she’d gone to then, and went to the home she’d purchased for Helda.

Helda had been a lucky accident, an unwed new mother who was staying under the nuns’ care as she recovered from her baby’s birth. The nuns assumed she’d join the nunnery, as she clearly had nowhere else to go. Jaina had offered her a different option.

She knocked on the cottage door, listening with ears pricked for any slight sound. That voice. 

Helda opened the door, putting her finger to her lips, and ushered her into the living room, waddling along behind her. The signs of a vigorous, happy life were all around - discarded toys, two wooden swords, a pile of laundry in the corner. The fire crackled cheerfully with a pot over it that was just beginning to simmer.

There was no sign of the infant boys, so they must be in the nursery. Jaina was relieved. 

“Tea? There’s a soup on, should be ready in an hour,” Helda informed her with a broad smile, her voice hushed.

“No, thank you,” Jaina said, matching Helda’s tone. “I came with money for the expenses.”

“He’s doing well. Bigger than my boy by at least an inch. You should see him - he’s nearly walking, already! A fine little chap, very sweet.”

Jaina nodded shortly, feeling her lips thin. She put a bag of gold on the mantel. “Thank you, Helda,” she said softly. 

“You’re not leaving already?” Helda asked. “I can wake him, he’s got a happy spirit so I’m sure he won’t mind, just to see you.”

“He doesn’t know who I am,” Jaina told her without thinking. “Better to let him rest.” 

“You’re late by a week this time,” Helda said, trying to keep her there. “Did another… incident arise?” She referred to Jaina’s months-long absence during her imprisonment by her mother in Kul Tiras. 

“I told you that I have an entire account at the bank set up for you, Helda,” Jaina said sternly. “If I don’t return, the funds will be -”

“You’re more than generous, milady,” Helda said quickly. “I was not asking because we are wanting in any way. I was just worried, when you were late.” 

“You shouldn’t be,” Jaina said. She took a step back toward the door.

“Lady Prou -” Helda called after her, and Jaina stopped short. She’d never given Helda her name, and Helda had never given her any indication that she knew it. 

She cursed under her breath and turned back to Helda. “Yes?”

Helda was standing there, looking young and innocent and a little afraid. She took a deep breath. “I was just going to say, you should at least look in at him in the nursery. Don’t you… don’t you care at all?”

Jaina frowned at her, and left the cottage without another word.


	3. Chapter 3

In the last few months of her pregnancy, after she consulted with a travelling human midwife in Kirthaven, after she'd felt her baby move inside her and been certain that this was real - after she'd had a close call during one of her battles with a demon, and concluded that she could not keep hunting them and be assured of even her own safety - Jaina had imagined what Sylvanas could have said to earn her forgiveness. 

She'd always been an advocate of peace between the Horde and the Alliance, until the destruction of Theramore. In the eyes of the Alliance, under Sylvanas's leadership, the Horde redeemed their betrayal in the first battle against the Legion. But the personal betrayal hurt Jaina more. It was the reason Jaina had spoken so strongly against allowing the Horde back into Dalaran. Not that anything had been discussed, but her physical interaction with Sylvanas had felt unexpectedly intimate, and her almost immediate betrayal had cut more deeply than it reasonably should have. She'd wanted nothing to do with the Horde or their new Warchief after that. The thought of seeing Sylvanas across another war table had made her stomach churn, and that was before she'd had any hint that their night together had resulted in anything other than pleasure. 

But perhaps Sylvanas had a reason for betraying the Alliance, a reason enough to be worth Jaina's time in listening to. It was Jaina's loneliness that made her imagine meeting Sylvanas alone again and giving her the chance to explain. Her loneliness, and the anticipation of waiting for their child's birth. 

Of course it would be foolish to meet Sylvanas with her condition so obvious. The odds were that Sylvanas could not, or would not, explain herself, and if that happened the last thing Jaina wanted was for the Warchief to think she was in any way welcome into her child's life. Not that Jaina thought Sylvanas wanted a brat, either, but the risk was too great. 

Jaina went into labor one week after Sylvanas burned Teldrassil. Jaina was glad she hadn't even tried to give Sylvanas a chance. 

Jaina and the rest of the Horde loyalists held their breath as Sarfang waited at the gates of Orgrimmar for his challenge to Sylvanas to be answered. Jaina's anticipation might have had a different texture than the rest of the assembled army, because while they waited nervously, Jaina leaned forward with the hope of getting a better view. She had only caught a glimpse of Sylvanas during the assault on broken Lordaeron. Now, she strained to see into the dark gates as they slowly opened. 

When Sylvanas emerged fully, Jaina's heart actually lept. She'd spent so much time remembering Sylvanas, but had truly only seen her a few times, and she'd thought that her memory must have been flawed. It wasn't. Sylvanas's skin was smooth and purple, and her eyes glimmered redly - those were the off-putting things, the ones that recalled her undead status. But even the way she walked oozed power, and she was undeniably gorgeous. When she spoke, she spoke with two voices, and it produced an unsettling but impressive effect.

Jaina watched her, mesmerized, as she struck Sarfang down. She heard her denounce the Horde, and then look up at the battlements as those that stood to defend Orgrimmar seemed to deflate. 

Jaina was disappointed, too. The Horde deserved better. Baine and Thrall were the leaders the Horde needed, not Sylvanas.

Sylvanas, who held Jaina's brother's body but would not raise him. Sylvanas, who clearly was serving an unknown master, or had some other mysterious purpose. Jaina watched as she turned to smoke and fled the scene, and could not help but think, _We will have peace for only so long as we are ignorant of her true purpose._

Andiun was scowling at Mathias Shaw. "I am genuinely wondering whether we pay you too much. Sylvanas cannot have simply disappeared. Your agents in the Horde have no information whatsoever?"

"Just that her Valkyrs and many of the Forsaken followed her out the door. They remain loyal to the Banshee Queen. The Horde's leadership has appointed a different undead to their council with the hopes of keeping the rest of the undead on their side, but it is only the unimportant or uninformed undead that have stayed in Orgrimmar."

Andiun's brow knitted in a very Varian expression as he opened his mouth to argue.

A calling-stone burned and vibrated urgently against Jaina's thigh, and she jumped, digging for it in her pocket. It wasn't - it couldn't be - she thought she only had one in that lower pocket. 

It was Helda's stone. She'd never, ever used it. Jaina drew a few glyphs in the air, and Anduin and Shaw turned to look at her. "Where are you -" Anduin started, but Jaina didn't have the time or breath to answer him. Her heart hammered in her chest, and she wondered if she'd see Sylvanas twice in as many weeks. This couldn't be a coincidence.

She appeared in the little cottage's kitchen to the sound of wailing. Both babies were sitting on the ground screaming, and to Jaina's confusion, Helda was on her hands and knees, blocking the kitchen's doorframe. Beyond Helda, Jaina saw the cottage's front door slam against the wall.

"They came for Kane," Helda told her, struggling to stand. She looked like she might be hurt, but the urgent wailing of the two children almost drowned out her voice. 

Kane - oh, that was a name, and part of Jaina was relieved he had one - turned and grabbed the bottom of Jaina's robes, screaming at her, red-faced. She was always surprised at his size and strength, and she'd never heard his voice quite this loudly. She was more confused than ever, and chose to focus on Helda.

"What happened?" Jaina asked, her voice drowned by the screaming of the babies. Kane pulled so hard on her robes that he was able to stand, toddering, upright. He continued to scream. 

"He used magic to protect me," Helda said, moving around Jaina to her own baby. She limped slightly, but seemed otherwise unhurt. 

Jaina looked up sharply. "Magic? What kind?" She checked for blood on the floor. 

"Just - just a shield, my lady," Helda said, understanding crossing her face. "A shield. It scared them off." Her face fell, and she ducked her head as she picked up her son. Jaina, hesitating, put her arms down to Kane. 

Kane grabbed her hands and strained to pull himself up to her, grunting with the effort. She put her hands around his tiny chest and picked him up for the first time since he was a newborn. He was heavier than he looked, and quieted instantly as he settled against her chest, staring deeply into her eyes with his unsettling water-clear gaze. 

Helda had asked Jaina to speak to him during her visit here a few months ago. If he was awake when she came, he always had his eyes on her, studying her intently. Jaina could see now that if she spoke, he would listen. Even now he watched her inquisitively, as if he could read something on her face.

Magic, at such a young age - it wasn't unheard-of, but it was certainly rare. Had Sylvanas been a powerful sorceress as well? Jaina only thought she was a ranger, with limited battle magics, and her own magic was mostly earned through study and practice. To draw upon magic without any training at all was very unusual.

Kane's mouth opened and he gurgled something to her, reaching up to touch her chin. Jaina's mouth opened, searching for a word to say to her son - the first thing she'd ever tell him. 

She couldn't find even a single word. His eyes were white, and his hair was blonde, and his ears were longer than most half-elves. He was as much Sylvanas as he was Jaina, and she had nothing to say to Sylvanas's son. 

She turned to Helda. "They'll be back. Did you see who it was?" Surely recognizable undead wouldn't be so bold as to move around the city openly. 

"I'm sorry, milady," Helda said. "They were humans, in black clothing. I don't know anything else."

"I have to move you. Or, move him," she corrected. "You may stay here if you wish. I'm sure in the Keep they will have another maid."

Helda didn't hesitate. "Oh, I'd never think to stay here without my little man." Her voice was warm, and as she spoke Kane twisted in Jaina's arms to look at her instead. 

Jaina faltered. Now she was Lord Admiral of Kul Tiras, and lived in the Proudmoore Keep, her childhood home. It would make sense to bring Kane with her to her own castle, but she hesitated. Many questions would be asked, regardless of what she chose. Could she trust Anduin not to share her secret? Would his Alliance be able to ensure her son's safety without leaking at least one parent's name? And then, if the information did come out - what would Katherine Proudmoore say?

She'd ask who the other parent was, and Jaina could evade that question from Anduin, but not her own mother. When Katherine eventually pried the information out of Jaina, she'd ask her why she decided to carry the baby, and she'd point out that Jaina hated the sight of her own son. No, Jaina could not face her mother with this, but she could certainly seek refuge in the Stormwind Keep. 

Kane turned back around to stare back up at Jaina again. His hair was flat on his head, his skin nearly glowed with health, and he was raising his eyebrows at her. His palms were dry and his fingers were tiny, delicate, and strong as he closed them around one of the buttons of her bodice, twisting the button sharply. One of his ears twitched alertly, and Jaina's heart swelled and broke. 

She hurried into the nursery and pried him off herself, placing him into his crib. He refused to lay down, and in desperation she just set him down on his feet and released him. He wobbled and then grabbed the railing, stabilizing himself. "I'll be right back," she said over her shoulder to Helda, and Kane fussed deep in his throat, staring at her.

Her son watched intently as she drew the teleportation glyphs in the air and disappeared. She appeared in the courtyard of the Alliance stronghold, the distance of only a few miles, but the almost immediate danger of abduction quickened her steps along the long hallway and back to the meeting room, where she'd left Anduin. She wiped her cheeks briskly as she strode forward, slamming open the door. 

Anduin and Shaw both stood up quickly at the sound, and seeing it was her, they both relaxed. 

"Anduin, I need you to come with me," Jaina said. 

"Right… now?" the boy king responded. 

"If you would," Jaina said, and she quickly spun a portal. All the transportation magic was beginning to drain her, but there was no time to waste. 

She towed him through and into the cottage's kitchen, which was now empty. The front door had been closed, and the sound of the babies' voices filtered through the empty nursery door. 

She closed the portal and looked at Anduin, remembering him as a small boy. He visited her in the city she founded. She remembered how he grew up in front of her eyes, and yet he was still little blond boy she'd loved then. This was not a conversation she relished having.

"I didn't see you during the Legion invasion," Jaina started, gritting her teeth. "I hope we have made our amends in the months since the Legion's defeat, but I must now admit that I was not entirely truthful. I did fight the Legion on my own. But, for a few months at the end of the war, I was - otherwise occupied."

She sighed. "My - my son is in the other room." She avoided looking at him, instead leveling her gaze out the kitchen window and into the back garden. "It seems that someone discovered where I was hiding him and, just today, sent people to either kidnap or - or eliminate him."

She raised her chin imperiously and finally hazarded a glance at Anduin. He was frowning at her. All the sounds in the nursery had ceased, and Jaina was aware of the three people in the next room. 

Anduin must have been, too. "Well," he said finally, "That does explain some things, but not - why didn't you tell any of us? Why keep this a secret, auntie?"

The term of endearment did what it was undoubtedly intended to do, and Jaina melted a little. She could not answer his question, though - she'd only come to Anduin because she thought she could avoid telling him the key fact. 

"I was embarrassed," Jaina said simply. It was part of the answer. 

"Didn't you think it would come out eventually?" Anduin pushed, and then he paled a little. "Is it - does the father want to keep it a secret? It, as in the baby, which is to say - what's his name?"

Jaina grimaced. "His - his name is Kane."

Anduin bounced on his heels. "And can I meet him?" 

Jaina nodded at the open doorway, and drifted behind him as he bounced through the door. The father. Of course Anduin would assume that Kane's other parent was male, and knew about the baby. Jaina was relieved, but some part of her was also horribly, deeply ashamed. Why had she kept this baby? Tears stung her eyes, and she cursed herself for being overemotional.

After meeting Helda, Anduin picked up Kane and held him aloft, and Kane shrieked and giggled, his smile brighter than any sun. She hated herself, then, for wishing he'd never been born. He had never smiled at her. She'd thought he was incapable of it. 

Anduin spun Kane around and then put him on his hip. Anduin wasn't wearing his heavy plate today, just a light chain shirt under his tunic, and Kane held onto him like a tiny monkey. 

They were both still grinning, although Kane's smile faded as his eyes locked onto her again. She ducked her head and turned into the hallway. 

"Oy! Jaina!" Anduin called after her. 

Jaina heard a murmuring voice. It was Helda, probably explaining that while Jaina called Kane her son, the reality was that blood was all they shared. 

Anduin found her in the back garden. She'd composed herself, although she expected that her eyes were probably still red. It was still the morning time, which struck Jaina as strange. 

Pumpkin flowers lined the walkway, and Anduin threaded among them. Rather than speaking, Anduin did what Anduin did best and put his arms around her shoulders. Jaina folded herself into him gratefully. Jaina was tall, but Anduin was much taller, so that her face was against his chest. He smelled like iron and earth. She inhaled and then held him tightly. There was a safety she felt with him that was entirely absent with her son of flesh and blood. 

"Whatever it is, Jaina, I will wait to hear it until you're ready. Stormwind Keep is at your disposal. We'll keep him a secret for as long as you'd like. And we'll keep him safe."

Jaina nodded, squeezing her eyes shut.

Anduin laughed. "Everyone will probably think he's mine," he said suddenly. "They're already so confused about why I haven't married." Jaina laughed a tiny bit, feeling hysterical and ragged. "But Jaina, who is the father? I will need to know, in case he comes to visit."

"The… father knows nothing of Kane. And I intend to keep it that way. Think no more on the subject. Please."

"Oh," Anduin said softly. "I understand, auntie."

"Thank you." Jaina composed herself, pulling away from his hug. "We need to stay focused on keeping peace, now, and the first step is finding Sylvanas."

"Yes," Anduin said softly. He looked up at the sky, squinting. "Tomorrow. I think I am ready to take a break, and it's been a long time since we had a royal child in the house."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is almost done too... And it will feature an actual interaction between our ladies! Chapter 5 will probably come in a few months.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major props to my new beta Thoruvial for all the help with this chapter! 
> 
> You may wonder, "Why is she posting every day?" You may ask, "Please stop flooding the board with your nonsense!" The good news is that with this chapter posted, no more will happen until Shadowlands is released. And, hopefully I'll be able to exorcise the demon of this story enough to eat, sleep, and do actual work. 
> 
> <3 thank you for sticking with me and I hope you enjoy this second-to-last update.

_Jaina Proudmoore._

The whisper jolted Jaina from her concentration, and she looked around the small personal studio that adjoined her bedroom in Boralus. She had heard that voice before, but always in her dreams. Never had it sounded so real.

The wind rustled the curtains at the far window, and she stood, cinching her bedrobe as protection against the cold. She was researching the realm of Death, an idle pursuit based upon something that High Arcanist Thalyssra had said. _Death. Interesting you’d use that word._ Thalyssra had known more than she’d let on, and Jaina was determined to find out what it was. 

When she went to the window, she found two red eyes lurking in the night outside. She startled, stepping back, searching for her staff. 

_I hope I’m not interrupting something important,_ the phantom in the window whispered. 

“Sylvanas?” Jaina said unbelievingly, and in the space between her breath and the window, the woman herself appeared. 

She was darker than Jaina remembered, eyes red and ghoulish in the half-light. She was wearing light armor, and her trademark bow was strapped on her back. Still, Jaina did not arm herself. Had the agents that had attacked Helda been Sylvanas’s? Was the elf here to ask Jaina about their son?

“I’m here to explain myself,” Sylvanas said, her feet planted stock-still where they’d landed. 

Somehow, that statement took Jaina aback more than perhaps anything else would have. Explain herself? As if she could? Jaina remembered the long months of wishing, and thought, _Finally._

“May I sit?” Sylvanas asked, almost courtly in her manner. Jaina nodded and indicated the chair by the window, which was nearly swallowed by the curtains as they billowed in the wind. She resisted the urge to second-guess herself. This _was_ an incredible opportunity, regardless of Jaina’s personal feelings. Death had been the subject of Jaina’s research tonight - because that was the closest she could get to sussing out the Banshee Queen’s motives. Sylvanas would bring the next cataclysm into the world, and here she was, asking for a chance to tell Jaina why.

Jaina crossed the room and reclaimed her study chair, closing the book on her notes. 

“How much time do I have? There is much to tell,” Sylvanas said, taking the seat and glancing around the study briefly. There wasn’t much to see - a witchlight torch in the corner behind Jaina, reams of scrolls, shelves of books, a stone floor, and windows all around the circular room. There was a door, partially open, that led to Jaina’s bedroom, and another closed door that led to the hallway beyond. This was the entry chamber to Jaina’s rooms in the Proudmoore Keep, and Jaina had turned it into a study in the months she'd had here. 

Jaina weighed the former Warchief's words. Some part of her wanted to spit in Sylvanas’s face. Another part of her wanted to blast her into oblivion. The largest part wanted to hear the entire story, and so she said, “I have time to listen.”

“Death harasses me,” Sylvanas said. “Ever since the Lich King raised me, I have been tortured by it. I’m sure that you know that it is not only me. All the undead hear his whispers. We learn, over time, to drown them out. We learn how to live with his whispers in the back of our minds. Some of us are driven mad by it, and they become mindless ghouls and ghosts. Those of us who are able to retain our sentience do it because we are able to ignore his words, his incessant presence. Death stalks us, looks over our shoulders, guides our hands when we strike fatal blows.”

Sylvanas blew out a stale breath, doubtless for dramatic effect because she did not need to breathe. “It was Death that guided my hand when I destroyed Saurfang, and it was his nagging that drew out the - the truth I spoke at the gates of Orgrimmar, which I will not say is false, but which I should not have said in front of the entire Horde. The Forsaken are my people, and the Horde was a massive body of troops that _needed_ me to lead them. I don't regret becoming Warchief, but I know I should have appointed a successor and relinquished the title rather than accepting Sarfang's challenge.

"You must have realized that, while I was a strong and loyal leader during the Burning Legion's assault on Azeroth, my reasons for inciting the Fourth War were… different. And I know that we fought on opposite sides, sometimes quite literally at our armies’ heads as they opposed each other.” Sylvanas sighed. “That was something I regretted, but it had to be done. The war had to be fought. It is only the prelude to what happens next.”

“What is that, Sylvanas?” Jaina snapped back. She was exhausted, suddenly, by the sheer breadth of Sylvanas’s explanation. Although it spanned only the past year and a half, it felt like a lifetime to Jaina. In some ways, it was. 

Sylvanas’s eyes glinted, and she leaned forward, placing her elbows on her knees. She was small and dark in that corner of Jaina's room. No magic sizzled from her - only pure power, and the charisma that had first drawn Jaina to her. 

“Death,” Sylvanas said simply. “I have today opened the gate between the Shadowlands and Azeroth, which is only a prelude to what I truly intend to do. I will bring all the champions of Azeroth to the Shadowlands, where Death’s agents lurk, and we will wear him down and then assault him when he emerges from Death’s Gates. If my plan is successful, Death will be no more.”

Jaina sputtered. “Death is necessary. Death comes after life - brings it into balance -”

“The Scourge changed all that. Didn’t it? I’m sure you’ve looked into it,” Sylvanas sneered. “If you haven’t, spend the next few weeks doing so. The time won't be wasted. When you do, you'll discover that the balance between Life and Death was irrevocably altered when the Scourge was unleashed. Undeath has always existed - in fact, my ancestors have manipulated Life into bowing to Death for millennia before this. But the Scourge was intended, in part, to tip the balance between Life and Death. Death is losing. The Scourge, and in particular the Forsaken, prove that death is not inevitable. When Arthas Menethil raised me, he stole a spirit from Death. Death has been attempting, unsuccessfully, to bring me and the rest of the Forsaken back into his clutches ever since. It is time that we prove to him that the effort is wasted. We have already beaten Death. We just need to make him realize it, reclaim the Shadowlands, and make him too afraid to venture out to claim souls that do not choose him.

“That is why I have approached you. As I mentioned, I weakened the barrier between the Shadowlands and Azeroth. The Fourth War recruited an army of souls in the Shadowlands, where they stand ready to fight against Death. When the time comes, I intend to call upon a cohort of champions to march against Death, and I’d like you to be among us.”

Sylvanas sat back in her seat, regarding Jaina with her glowing, blood-red eyes. If Jaina wasn’t mistaken, there was a hint of smugness in the Banshee Queen’s expression. A swell of anger filled Jaina’s breast, and she breathed out, trying to dispel it. 

"You think I'd stand with you? You just told me that you deliberately _killed_ people, only for the sake of them being dead _._ You ignited the Fourth War and nearly released the last Old God just to have more souls to play with. _Dead_ souls. That is no joke, Sylvanas. You behave as if I should thank you."

Sylvanas stood, and despite her tiny frame her presence was impressive. Jaina stood in the attempt to counter that presence, and although she was taller, she felt less powerful. Maybe it was her secret, which should have advantaged Jaina. Instead it made her feel vulnerable and afraid. If Sylvanas had known, she'd have used their son as a pawn. She hadn't, which only meant that she didn't have the information on hand. 

"I know you are pragmatic, Lady Proudmoore. Lord Admiral. So I am framing this request as an appeal to your pragmatism. If you refuse, the outcome of the coming conflict will not favor the Alliance. I know how you treasure your boy king's innocence. Trust me when I tell you that it will be easy to turn him to our cause, when he hears what is at stake. A legion or more of his soldiers, to start. And his father's soul."

Jaina took two steps forward, closing the distance between their bodies. She remembered the loss of Varian, how close Anduin had seemed to accepting his father's brother as a leader instead of himself. Yes, if Anduin was offered the possibility of reuniting with his father, he'd take it. 

Jaina conceded, "You present a compelling case. Who else do you plan to approach?"

"Baine. Thalyssra. What other names do you wish to hear? I will ask them, too."

"You seem very confident, for a woman who was recently deposed because of her lack of empathy."

"I gave up the throne," Sylvanas reminded her. Her brow had lowered, and her eyes seemed to simmer in the half-light of the ever-burning lantern. "I am trying to raise an army to defeat Death. Most wouldn't understand. But I thought you would."

"I…" Jaina searched herself, found her center. "I will fight Death, but not under your banner, Sylvanas." It was stubbornness, and the instinct not to commit until she had truly considered all the angles.

"I'll take that," Sylvanas said, grinning, fangs on open display. "Either way, your legions of light will be on my side."

Jaina was reminded of the many nights she had spent wishing for her. Although she'd spoken only of history and war, Jaina missed her so acutely that her heart ached. It was not only the son they shared - it was the nights alone as Jaina felt him move inside her, it was the days that she read of another Alliance victory with the Horde standing strong with them. Sylvanas had done so much to nullify those moments of union, but she also offered, now, a reason. It was grotesque, nothing Jaina would ever agree with - but it was a real reason, and Jaina's spirit was so hungry for that that the entire long, spiteful history of the last year was redacted by the look of hope in Sylvanas's glowing eyes. She had dwelt upon the memory of their night together, worrying it like a bone, retracing every decision, agonizing over Sylvanas obsessively. Now, having her here in her own bed chambers, Jaina's better senses fled her.

She opened her robe and shrugged it off her shoulders, revealing her nightdress and the body beneath it. "Last time, you approached me saying that a kiss before a battle would bring luck, and that we could share our bodies for that purpose alone. Can we also agree that tonight would be the same?"

She'd barely gotten through the first sentence before Sylvanas was unbuckling her breastplate. She let it fall to the ground, and then Sylvanas turned ethereal and stepped out of the rest of her armor, appearing entirely naked in Jaina's study, her armor and weapons clattering in a heap to the ground. 

Sylvanas was as lean as Jaina remembered, with perky breasts and a trim torso, muscular archer's shoulders and a runner's legs. Her body was as it must have been when the elf fell in battle, and like most elves Sylvanas's body looked both beautiful and deadly.

Sylvanas hadn't said anything, and Jaina hesitated. "Will you agree?"

"Of course," Sylvanas answered quickly, taking a few steps forward. Jaina licked her lips, and then she pushed open the door to her bedroom, which was dark. There was a bed, and a nightstand, and little else. Jaina had few belongings aside from her staff and robes, which she'd left in the study.

Unlike the last time, Sylvanas seemed uninterested in keeping her weapons with her. Perhaps it was foolish - perhaps Jaina could overpower her with magic - the fantasy of killing Sylvanas reoccurred to Jaina as she slipped the nightdress off her shoulders, baring her body to Sylvanas. 

She wouldn't fight the Banshee Queen. Even now her body thrummed in excitement, absorbing each slight movement, taking in the look of Sylvanas hungrily. 

Sylvanas closed the distance between their bodies. "I have never wanted anything more," she murmured, and caught Jaina's lips in hers. 

Jaina kissed her back, opening her lips and wrapping her arms around Sylvanas's neck to draw her in close. Sylvanas's skin was cool to the touch, and every inch of their bodies met smoothly. Jaina shuddered in satisfaction. Already this was more pleasure than she'd ever experienced before Sylvanas. She wanted more contact between their bodies. She wanted Sylvanas on top of her, sliding the softness of their bodies together, weighing Jaina down. _More,_ Jaina wanted to say. _Faster, Sylvanas. I am already ready for you._

Sylvanas ran her hands down either side of Jaina's torso, tracing her hips, and Jaina arched her back and pressed her breasts against Sylvanas's upright nipples, gasping. Her thighs were slick from the overflowing response of her body. In the back of her mind, she wondered how it was possible that she could _need_ someone so deeply. She'd wanted Sylvanas before, but not like this. In the morning, would she look back on this and think that she had let her body run roughshod over her conscience? Was it connected with some animalistic drive to win her lover and the mother of her child back, regardless of the reality of the situation?

Sylvanas growled, flicking her tongue between Jaina's lips. She brought her hands up and cupped Jaina's breasts, ducking her head to nip at Jaina's neck and down to her left breast, kneading the right one expertly. Jaina whimpered and traced a hand down Sylvanas's back and around her ass, gripping her in the sensitive spot above her thigh. Her other hand slipped into Sylvanas's hair, and she used that hand to pull Sylvanas back up into a searing kiss. 

Their bodies met another's again, naked skin to skin, and Jaina's skin prickled up in excitement. Sylvanas backed Jaina into the foot of the bed, and Jaina startled at the contact of cold wood against the backs of her thighs. 

"Will you let me into your bed?" Sylvanas asked her. "Or shall I take you standing? Do you want to bend over for me? How do you want me first?"

Jaina's eyelids fluttered and her core burned white-hot. She ran her hand up Sylvanas's back, pulling her in closer, kissing along her jawline tenderly. Her mouth watered with the sweetness of it. "I can't let you go long enough to climb up there," she murmured, halfway joking. "I never knew I could want anyone like this."

Sylvanas's eyes burned, and she released Jaina to climb gracefully up onto the bed, drawing Jaina up with her. Jaina was eager, too eager for dignity. She kissed Sylvanas's thigh and then her hip, tracing upward with hungry lips. She kissed each of Sylvanas's nipples, drawing them into her mouth, and Sylvanas wrapped their bodies together and maneuvered herself on top of Jaina, interlacing their legs and kissing her again. 

With the first contact of Sylvanas's thigh near Jaina's core, Jaina's hips jerked and sought out more. She was throbbing with pure excitement and need, and sighed when Sylvanas settled more firmly against her, wrapping her leg around Sylvanas's hip and rutting in short, sweet strokes. Immediately her body started building toward a peak, and she tried to slow herself down, to savor the pleasure of everything in this moment. She kissed Sylvanas deeply, feeling electric jolts of pleasure shoot through her belly. 

Sylvanas whispered, "Patience." She ran her hand down the back of Jaina's thigh, pushing her leg back down, and then kissed down her chest to her breasts, disengaging their legs. Jaina missed the contact immediately, but she felt a buoyancy in her body, fed by the shivers of pleasure from Sylvanas's lips and fingers. 

Sylvanas moved down from her breasts, and Jaina, realizing where she was headed with her mouth, opened her legs eagerly. Sylvanas paused as she reached Jaina's belly, and then she said slowly, "It can't be."

Jaina jerked, kicking her with her knee, pushing her away. She pulled the throw blanket over her body protectively, heart sinking, body growing cold. She looked in the mirror only rarely, but of course she had purple stretch-marks around the bottom of her stomach, and of course Sylvanas would notice. 

Sylvanas just sat there at the base of the bed, expression unreadable. "You had a child." She licked her lips, obviously piecing together the facts. Sylvanas's people would have been monitoring Jaina, and she certainly would have known if Kane had been acknowledged as Jaina's son. It was almost impossible to lie. 

"Tell me. Was it not my child?" Sylvanas asked her. 

"He is not yours," Jaina spat as vehemently as she could. "And he will be kept safe from you, I promise that."

 _"Danas'dorei,"_ Sylvanas whispered reverently, seeming dazed. "A gift of the Sunwell."

It was not the reaction Jaina had been expecting. She thought it might have been accidental magic on her part - she remembered so vividly how she'd wanted Sylvanas, how she'd begged for more even when they both were spent, how every moment felt like the culmination and the beginning. She'd said yes to Sylvanas in so many ways, and wanted her so badly, that she'd blamed her own wild magic for the conception. 

But Sylvanas seemed to recognize what had happened. She even had a name for it. " _Danas'dorei_?" Jaina repeated, trying to commit the phrase to memory so that she could research it later. 

"And a boy. He will be a great mage, the greatest in generations. It is so rare to have a gift from the Sunwell, and even more rare to have a boy. We must have called to it so loudly, Jaina." Sylvanas focused on Jaina, seemed to come back to herself. "You have kept him a secret, and not just from me. You should be proud, not ashamed. The _Danas'dorei_ is a great gift that should be celebrated."

Jaina clenched her jaw. "You'll stay far away from him," she said at last, and then she added, "So he is from the Sunwell, not you?" 

Sylvanas chuckled. "Oh, he is mine as well as yours. Don't look so disappointed. You loved me dearly, that night, as you would have loved me tonight, and any other night you'll have me in your bed. You loved me, and I loved you, we consented to the gift, and we made something out of nothing together. That is how it happens."

Jaina's heart hammered in her chest. "But you are dead."

"And I loved life when I touched you." Sylvanas closed her eyes, sighed. "I am sorry that I didn't know before, but I am glad to know now. I will not approach him, but when he is old enough tell him my name and allow him come to me, if he wishes to."

Jaina swallowed, and when Sylvanas's eyes opened she nodded to her. 

Sylvanas stood up from the end of the bed. "I have the sense I am no longer wanted here. But, if you ever want me back again, call my name out your window and the message will find me."

Jaina frowned. "Don't watch my window, Sylvanas."

"Oh, it is not only the window that we watch," Sylvanas told her smugly. "I'm glad that I'll have you to cover my back when I face Death. Of course, you must understand that I'll be securing more than a promise of that in the days to come." She gave Jaina a once-over. "And I do hope you'll call me back here soon. I hate not to _finish_ what I've started." 

Sylvanas grinned toothily and then turned back into wisps, and Jaina groaned and pulled the blanket up over her face. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes so this is now planned for 7 chapters. Thought some of these matters deserved more screen time...

Jaina took a sponge bath after Sylvanas left her tower at Proudmoore Keep, trying to focus on the physical process and not her trembling hands, or tumultuous thoughts. The interaction with Sylvanas had been intense. Of course it had been. Sylvanas was Jaina's obsession; Jaina spent her daytime hours strategizing war against her, and at night she remembered their lovemaking.

That was the name for it. Sylvanas had said the words, hadn't she?  _ You loved me dearly, _ she'd said. Maybe it was just the translation from Sylvanas's native tongue, but Jaina felt the truth of it in her bones. She  _ had _ loved Sylvanas, enough to senselessly bare herself and her secret. It might have once been sex, but the year and a half since had turned sex into something else for Jaina. She couldn't deny the truth of that, although it barely mattered.

She still hated Sylvanas. Sylvanas's reason was insufficient to forgive her trespasses, and Sylvanas had not framed her rationale except as her actions might benefit the dead. The dead, who were mostly all passed through Death's Gates. Jaina's father sprung first of all to mind, but he had died more than ten years ago, and surely his soul was already passed. It was the more recent dead that Sylvanas wished to recruit to her cause, among whom a great number mattered. 

Jaina had to bring the information to Anduin right away. Anduin and Genn, his closest advisor, would want to know that Sylvanas had opened up the Shadowlands, and intended to somehow manipulate the Alliance into following her through. 

Jaina told herself that was the reason she went to Stormwind that night, right after her sponge bath. The night guards let her through the front gates, and when she arrived in her rooms at Stormwind, there was a basin of water and a warm pastry waiting for her. The staff here was nothing if not efficient. 

Jaina put down her staff and her bag which contained the books she'd been referencing, along with a few new ones. She'd been right. Death was Sylvanas's aim. She wished she could feel triumphant; she was the one who'd figured out what Sylvanas planned! Instead, she just felt sick. By telling Anduin and Greymane, she was most likely just playing right back into Sylvanas's hand. And Sylvanas had been so confident in Jaina's complacency. It was infuriating to feel so powerless. 

She went back out the door and around to the next room, pulling out the small key on its leash from the same pocket as Helda's calling stone, and slipping it into the lock. When she opened the door, Helda's snoring was loud in Jaina's ear. She went quickly through the partially-opened doorway into the adjacent chambers. 

The infants were in this room, in separate cribs. Helda had insisted that Jaina approve the configuration of furniture in the new nursery - Kane closest to her door, the other baby's crib along the wall. She'd last been here six days earlier, as Helda and the infants settled into their new home.

The babies slept just a foot apart with their heads together. Kane's face was bathed in moonlight from the window. He looked so peaceful. 

The other infant was the closest Kane would ever get to having a sibling, and Jaina was glad for that. Many nobles didn't allow their nursemaids' children to grow close to their own children, but Jaina had thought that Kane would grow up as a commoner, and be lost in the diverse multitudes of Stormwind. That had probably been the best life Kane could have - to be a part of the world in its lowest reaches, to be safe from the perils of life at the head of an army, the vigarities of the noble courts, the pressure of ten thousand lives depending upon your good judgement. To never know his bloodlines, to never ascend to the head of the Proudmoore Admiralty. To never wonder how it could be that the Banshee Queen and the Daughter of the Sea might have known each other at all.

Kane stirred in his crib, making a small sound. His eyes opened, and he looked up at her. 

Jaina's heart skipped a beat. She felt like she'd been caught in the act. The fact that he was an infant didn't make his judgement any less cutting; if anything, the look in his eye as he stared silently up at her was even more condemning.  _ Yes, _ his look seemed to say.  _ I wasn't wrong. You are important to me.  _

She held her breath, and he rolled over and sat up, opening his mouth without speaking, revealing tiny incisors blossoming from his gums. He reached up to her with both arms. 

Without thinking more on it, she picked him up. As before, he settled comfortably on her hip, clinging with one arm around her torso. She carried him out of Helda's room, where the big woman was still snoring peacefully, and along the long hallway to the moonlit gardens. 

There, she put him down in the grass and sat cross-legged across from him. He looked around alertly, and then leaned forward onto his hands and crawled over to her, balancing with one hand on her arm as he stood up. 

He made a questioning noise, reaching for her face again, and she whispered, "Hello, son." He was quiet, looking at her. "I saw your mother tonight, and she told me you come from the Sunwell."

He babbled back to her, and she put her arm gently around his back, as if he were made of glass. He was so solid when she touched him, though, made of flesh and blood and muscle. No longer the tiny infant she'd given to Helda eight months ago. She'd felt such relief to give him to someone who could care for him, even though her nipples had wept milk at the sound of his voice. 

Jaina kissed his forehead now, feeling the fine blond hairs against her lips, smelling the fresh smell of his skin.

She murmured, "She told me you are to be celebrated, Kane." He leaned back to look at her face as she spoke. "That you're a great gift. I never thought you were anything else." 

He grimaced and reached up to her cheek, to the tear that had escaped her lashes. 

"Please believe that the only reason I left you behind was that I believed it was best for you. But now Sylvanas knows about you. You're in Stormwind Keep, and Anduin seems determined to raise you as nobility. It isn't the life I'd hoped you'd have, but maybe it was inevitable, and now that it's happened I need to stop… denying it."

Kane looked at her solemnly, and the moonlight caught in his white pupils, making them look silver in color. She kissed his forehead again, and then she brought him back to Helda's room and lay him back in his crib. 

He put his fingers in his mouth and gnawed at them gummily, watching her as she pulled the door mostly closed and slipped back out.

The light of the dawn on her face woke her just a few hours later, and she jolted upright and dressed quickly to meet Anduin. He called the Alliance council, and Jaina helped him arrange the room before they arrived. They brought in chairs for everyone, and rather than a table they arranged a few smaller desks for the scribe and for Andiun's maps. He sat slightly removed from them, so that he could face the gathered Alliance leaders without seeming to dominate the scene.

Tyrande wasn't here. She'd left to seek retribution for the destruction of Teldrassil a month ago, and little had been heard from her since. Another person who would never forgive Sylvanas; who in fact might be hunting the Banshee Queen down at this very moment. She imagined Tyrande confronting Sylvanas with the intention of destroying her, and wasn't sure, if she had the chance, that she wouldn't intercede on Sylvanas's behalf. She told herself that it was only because she wanted Sylvanas to defeat Death, and not because she wanted Sylvanas to live.

While they waited for the council to arrive, Jaina tried to relax. She had barely slept, but somehow she felt energized, almost frantic. When she closed her eyes, she remembered Sylvanas's kiss. It had only been last night, and the memory was still vivid in her mind. Sylvanas had been so enthusiastic about the idea of renewing their physical relationship. If you'd asked Jaina before, she'd have said that the undead feel no sense of physical pleasure. Weren't their bodies frozen as they were when they died? But on the night they shared, she'd tasted Sylvanas's desire. Her mouth watered at the memory of it. 

She wanted that again. She wanted to go back to Kul Tiras and call for Sylvanas out her window, have her back in her bed tonight. She could tell Sylvanas about the son they shared. She could have everything that last night had only teased. Her body felt aflame, even just in remembering. Maybe it had simply been too long since Jaina had shared her body with someone else, but Jaina was surprised to realize that she found it impossible to imagine wanting anyone but Sylvanas. 

It was no wonder she'd fallen victim to her desire when Sylvanas finally presented herself. Jaina couldn't hate herself for what she wanted, although many might. The important thing was not to allow her physical desire for Sylvanas to cloud her judgement. 

That was why she was here. She opened her eyes to see Vereesa Windrunner studying her from the chair across the room. The Alliance leadership had finally arrived, Genn, Lord Trollbane, and the rest. Vereesa was the only elf, now that Tyrande was absent.

"Lady Proudmoore called us here today," Anduin informed the gathering. "Jaina, what do you have to tell us?"

Jaina stood, addressing them all. "Sylvanas Windrunner visited me last night to ask for my help." A murmur went around the room, and Jaina grimaced, trying to ignore it. She'd decided that there was nothing else for it but to be honest. After all, Sylvanas's intention had not been romantic - and a midnight visit from one of the Forsaken wouldn't immediately have the appearance of romance anyway. Either way, Jaina wouldn't allow herself to be ashamed. 

"She told me that she ripped apart the fabric that divides Azeroth and the Shadowlands yesterday. Her intention is to confront Death himself in the Shadowlands, and she asked for my help in the endeavor. Of course I refused."

"You didn't kill her?" Anduin asked, hand gripping the arm of his chair tightly. 

Jaina scoffed, shook her head. She couldn't explain why Sylvanas's visit had not ended with one of the two women dead. "She didn't come to fight. She asked for an alliance."

"Have we not learned our lesson? If not with the Horde, certainly with Sylvanas." It was Vereesa, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. The pose reminded Jaina of someone -  _ Sylvanas, _ her heart reminded her.  _ Sylvanas, her sister, your enemy and lover.  _

"We have," Jaina acknowledged, dipping her head in a half-bow. "We must stay vigilant."

A few heads turned toward the entrance of the room, and Jaina looked for an intruder. There was nobody she could see.

Jaina finished, "But at times, pragmatism might be the most -"

A cry lit up the chamber, and Jaina dragged her gaze down. A small creature - a child, with pointed ears and white eyes -  _ Kane,  _ it was her son. He was standing in the entryway, and took two more steps toward Jaina.

Helda rushed through the doorway, scooping the baby up in her arms. "Oh, I'm sorry, milady - milord, my Lords - he was quite  _ determined,"  _ she babbled, turning completely red. Kane howled in discontent. Helda bowed in Anduin's direction, and randomly to her right and left, and then fled the chambers. 

"Well," Anduin said, shooting a glance at Jaina. "A child on the loose." He chuckled. 

"A  _ high elf half-blood,"  _ Veressa murmured, and Jaina looked at her searchingly. She looked right back at Jaina. Jaina remembered Helda's words -  _ milady, _ she'd said first, and she'd certainly looked directly at Jaina when she said it.

The jig was up. Jaina met Veressa's gaze evenly, grimacing. 

"High elf? How do you know?" Anduin said alertly. 

"No matter," Jaina interjected. "Sylvanas also indicated that she planned to pull the Alliance into the coming conflict with Death. How, I do not know. But we should be ready for an underhanded feint on our forces that might draw them into the conflict to come. The Forsaken have separated themselves from the Horde. It will be the undead, and not the Horde."

"Then we must be ready," Anduin said, sitting up straight. "If it is the Forsaken and not the Horde, perhaps Sylvanas will pull the same trick with the new Horde leadership as well. She has no sway over them now. We should warn Thrall and the rest."

Jaina blinked, surprised at his insight. She nodded, and a few of the others agreed as well. 

She left the meeting with the sense that she'd both accomplished something important, and been revealed to those who did not wish her well. She heard footfalls behind her, and quickened her steps, winding up the narrow staircase to the upper bedchamber wing of the keep. She just had to fetch her bag - she wouldn't see Helda, she didn't have much tolerance for more apologies - the steps followed her upwards, and when she reached the wing she turned on her heel to face her pursuer. 

It was Vereesa Windrunner, of course. She mounted the last stair and then looked Jaina up and down.

"I'm here to visit the babe," Vereesa told her. "Unless you can offer some reason to me that I should not?"

"N-no," Jaina stammered. She'd found time this morning to flip through the books she'd brought, and a few of the books in the Stormwind library. None appeared to discuss the  _ Danas'dorei, _ although she was able to roughly translate it.  _ Danas _ meant the Sunwell _ ,  _ and _ 'dorei _ meant child of. Sylvanas had given her the translation accurately in common, but there appeared to be little else that was recorded in the human histories.

"Good. He is up here, on this wing?" Verseesa led the way, and Jaina's ear picked up the distant sound of wailing when they were a few doors down from Helda's rooms. 

As they drew closer, the sound abruptly cut off, and Jaina knocked on the door ahead of Vereesa. 

"How  _ do _ you know?" Jaina asked Vereesa while they waited. "I don't deny that his parentage derives from an elf who never turned to fel magic, but how could that possibly be hereditary?"

Vereesa didn't bother to look over at her. "His coloring is rare. No blood elf would have eyes and skin of that color, although there are many high elves that could be mistaken for blood elves." She paused, still facing the doorway. "It is the coloring of the highest of the old order's people, and no blood elf alive has that coloring. We were either killed when Silvermoon fell to the Lich King, died of withdrawal, or - or, the baby's other parent is one of the few elves who survived all of that. I could count us on one hand."

The door opened to Helda's red face, a child under each arm. The nursemaid looked first at Vereesa, and then with relief at Jaina. "Milady. He knew you were coming. The child is unstoppable - I am sorry -"

"It's all right," Jaina interjected. "Here, give him to me." Her heart stuttered as Helda offered Kane up, and she lifted him into her arms. His attention was divided equally between Jaina and Vereesa, and his ears flicked rapidly. 

"We'll be right back," Jaina told Helda, and the girl curtseyed sloppily and muttered something indistinct, eyes on the floor. If it had been just the two of them, she'd have been beaming to see Jaina holding Kane with such familiarity, but the presence of the elf turned her shy. 

No matter. Jaina walked with Kane to her own rooms, propping the door open for Vereesa. The elf entered on light feet, glancing around the meager room.

She took a seat without asking, and Jaina set Kane down on his two feet. She was surprised that he was walking, and in fact he immediately turned to grab her arm, trapping her on one knee beside him. 

"Remarkable," Vereesa murmured. "He is yours. I can't think…"

_ "Danas'dorei,"  _ Jaina told her, biting her lip, looking at Kane. She whispered the last bit. "That is what Sylvanas called him."

Vereesa sighed, and did not say anything for a long time. Kane watched her, and then his attention drifted back to Jaina and he took two steps to nestle himself closer to her, leaning. He looked up at her, contemplative, hand in his mouth.

"So Sylvanas knows," Vereesa said finally. 

Jaina felt her face heat up. "I didn't tell her. It was - it was just one night, and at the time the Horde and the Alliance were - it was before the Battle of Broken Shore," she summarized, feeling as if she had to explain herself. "I didn't mean for her to find out." She bit her tongue to stop the flow of words, looking up to find Vereesa's face blank and unreadable. 

Jaina remembered being surprised that Rhonin's quiet wife turned into a fierce warrior once her children were grown. She and Vereesa had a long history together, and somehow even after Rhonin's death at Theramore, when Vereesa and Jaina fought together for vengeance against the Horde and Vereesa accompanied Jaina as her second-in-command to Pandaria, the elf had never really warmed to Jaina. Jaina thought it was because she'd worked with Rhonin as a part of the Kirin Tor, and he'd given his life so that she, Jaina, could live. Vereesa had remained cold, and now she had another reason. 

Finally, the elf stood and looked out the window. When she spoke, her voice was steely. "I thought your tone when speaking about my cursed  _ sister _ was very familiar for someone who has fought against her for so many years. Now I know why.

"If he were not  _ Danas'dorei _ and my kin, I would kill him where he stands. No child of Sylvanas should live. Perhaps that would begin to make up for what she's made of her undeath."

Vereesa turned to face Jaina. Jaina was still crouched on the ground, and she unconsciously pulled Kane closer as if to shield him from her. "I know why you'd say that. I shared the sentiment for many months, but Kane is not responsible for Sylvanas's sins."

Vereesa scoffed. "Yet you have hidden her son away from the world."

"From Sylvanas, Vereesa. I hid him from  _ her. _ Teldrassil was the last straw for me, as I'm sure it was for you." Jaina remembered shrugging her nightgown off her shoulders in a flash, and squeezed her eyes shut, holding Kane closer still. She opened her eyes to see Vereesa looking at her, her face less closed-off than it was when she turned from the window. "She did it all to create an army of dead souls to fight with her against Death. It's unforgivable, but it was not senseless."

"It was a calculated move meant to ignite the Fourth War," Vereesa said slowly, and Kane's head swiveled to look at her. He couldn't possibly understand the gist of the conversation, but he was certainly listening and watching them, staying quiet and still as if he sensed danger. "My sister has forgotten what peace is."

"Yes," Jaina whispered. "And there's no stopping her now, not until she's either accomplished her goal or found her true death."

"I wonder if that's all she's ever wanted. It is just a shame that she has dragged so many other souls with her on her way."

Jaina bit her lip, and thought again of Derek Proudmoore, who Sylvanas had refused to raise. Her throat closed up. 

"Yes," Jaina agreed, and wondered why she felt like she was trying to lie. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that I have increased the rating. I wanted this fic to be among my few M rated stories, but alas, it was not to be...
> 
> Hope you enjoy. All my length plans have gone out the window by the way. 
> 
> And thank you again to my lovely beta, and also to Anon Venti for help with the Thalassian translation.

The Shadowlands were… the Shadowlands, as dull and cold as Jaina remembered, although it had been a long time since she had been here. Time in the in-between was always unpleasant. 

It was also dangerous, more dangerous than Jaina remembered. Agents of Death lurked around every corner, and Jaina had never met one before but even for her they were intimidating. Their touch brought nausea, weakness, and eventual true death to any whose friends were not quick or strong enough to save them. 

The living army of the Alliance moved through this shadowy land in large clumps, huddled anxiously together, and it was no wonder that Sylvanas and her Valkyrs had no trouble at all keeping Anduin away from them. Sylvanas's warning had effectively mobilized the Alliance scholars into researching the Shadowlands, but even Jaina had not expected that Anduin would be her first victim, and the Valkyrs had snatched him out from right under Genn's nose. Jaina thought about Anduin often, although she might not be as worried about his personal safety as the rest of the Alliance leadership. 

Genn was ostensibly the leader of the army here, which also probably explained the reason they still hadn't found any sign of the lost High King. He was on top of a crate in the middle of camp, delivering a lecture to the unit commanders while Jaina and the other champions loitered on the sidelines, when a human watchman came barrelling through the camp, gasping.

"King Greymane, sir, it's - it's King Wrynn, he's here! The prisoner of - of the Banshee Queen! They're on the next ridge, coming toward us!"

Sylvanas? Jaina perked up, and blinked over to the edge of camp to look for them.

Sure enough, Sylvanas walked beside and slightly behind Anduin, who was clad in a clean white tunic and leathers. It was just the two of them, and while neither spoke, they both moved with urgency. Jaina stayed in the shadows of the watch tower, and when Genn appeared at the edge of camp, Anduin began running toward him, his arms swinging free. He wasn't even restrained, Jaina noted in surprise. 

Jaina was far enough away that she couldn't quite hear what Anduin muttered to Genn when he reached him, flinging his arms around the other man's shoulders. She could, however, see that Sylvanas had held back, certainly not outside of bowshot, but not close enough to easily reach. Her weapons were sheathed, and her hood was raised, as if it might somehow conceal her identity. Still, unlike Anduin, Sylvanas had spotted Jaina and seemed to look at her inquisitively.

Jaina turned away from Sylvanas, ducking under one of the wooden beams to meet Anduin. 

"Jaina!" Anduin exclaimed, and engulfed her in his arms next. 

She couldn't restrain a smile, patting his back. "What is happening?" she asked him.

"Death is marching!" he said quickly, pulling away and looking between them. The rest of the champions were arrayed behind them, and Anduin raised his eyes to include them as well. "He's left Death's Gates and seems to be headed directly to the entrance to Azeroth!"

There was just one way in and out of the Shadowlands, if you wished to retain your living body, and it was through the hole Sylvanas had ripped at Icecrown. 

Jaina scoffed. "So Sylvanas has decided to release you back to us? For what reason?"

Anduin twisted his lip. "You think I've turned, don't you. But I did see him with my own eyes. Each step he takes is a mile long. Isn't this what she told you before, auntie? That she wanted our help? Your help? She didn't think he'd leave Death's Gates to go directly to the hole in the world, though."

Genn said, "So what is it that she proposes to do? Whatever it is, I would advise we make haste back to the portal to escape before he blocks or closes it. We were only here to rescue you, my king, and you are here now."

Anduin turned to look briefly behind himself at Sylvanas. "She has a plan, Genn. If she is truly able to defeat Death, we will no longer be a victim to him. We will all live forever! And…" he trailed off, looking hesitant. "My father is marching with her. She says that if we defeat Death, we will be able to use the Icecrown access point to visit the dead forever. And that they will only move on from the Shadowlands if they wish to."

Jaina shot a glance at Sylvanas, who was standing a distance away with her arms crossed, left ear flicking as if she could hear them. Perhaps she could. "What makes you think that she is telling the truth?" Jaina asked Anduin sharply, although in her gut she suspected that Sylvanas was right. All the research the Alliance scholars had done suggested the same, except of course the consequences of destroying Death could only be the subject of speculation. 

"I… I think she is. That's all. I know the main reason she wants to destroy Death is to help all the undead, but… doesn't it make sense?"

"You've grown soft on her," Genn said wonderingly, and in Jaina's heart there flickered to life a spark of hope. Of course Anduin, the crowd-pleaser, the kid who was everyone's nephew, would have made friends with his jailkeeper during his imprisonment. If Anduin liked Sylvanas… Jaina squashed the thought before it could fully blossom. It was not Anduin's opinion that dictated Jaina's decisions about her own relationship with Sylvanas, and for now, for  _ always, _ Sylvanas was nothing more than a clever foe to Jaina.

Anduin sighed. "I suppose so. But will you allow her to outline her plan, at least?"

Genn studied him, and Anduin looked to Jaina as well. "You are the High King," Genn said finally, and Jaina nodded as well. 

Not more than ten minutes later, Anduin had splayed the map of the Shadowlands out on the war table, and Sylvanas was standing across from him. The rest of the tent was crowded, but the space around her was empty. Jaina watched her cautiously at Andiun's right hand. 

Sylvanas spoke without preamble. "Death marches from here," she pointed at Death's Gates, "to Icecrown, here. My camps are here." She indicated a spot near the mountains, closer to Death's Gates than Icecrown, and on the opposite side of Death's course from the Alliance camps. "My armies are marching now, taking this route," she indicated a curve that would intercept Death's pathway at the place it was closest to the Alliance camp. 

Sylvanas paused, and this time Jaina was certain that she looked directly at her. Jaina blinked, uncertain how to react, although her heart hammered with some unidentifiable emotion. 

"If you all might recall, I called the retreat when the Horde was protecting the Alliance's flank at Broken Shore. Our army had already been defeated." She sighed sharply.

"This time, I'd ask that the Alliance watch my flank instead. Death's minions are flooding out of his Gates. It appears to be an endless flow. If the Alliance can hold his minions off, my army will take Death himself. That is my proposal. It won't be safe, but you do not need to do anything other than what you've been doing for the past few months." She sneered a little bit. "I have observed that your techniques have improved over time, so it should not prove  _ too _ challenging."

Sylvanas stepped away from the map. "I will go to meet my army now. We should reach Death in three hours. You will need only an hour to get into position. If my scouts see your army moving, we will assume that you've taken us up on it. If you do not… we will fight Death anyway, and let us all pray that we are able to triumph without the  _ noble heroes' _ help."

She began to dissolve into the air, and before she did, Jaina whispered, "I need to - I need to ask you some questions, banshee."

Sylvanas re-formed, looking at Jaina with curiosity. 

Jaina cleared her throat, gestured at the map. "Let the men discuss the strategy. I need to understand more fully the - the more spiritual elements of your argument, which Anduin explained to us."

"Certainly." Sylvanas inclined her head to Anduin in a gesture that was nearly a bow, and the crowd parted before her as she swept from the tent.

Jaina followed behind her, keeping her back straight, and rather than stopping outside Jaina kept walking, eyes forward. Sylvanas jogged beside her, watching her face. 

She pushed open the flap to her tent, letting Sylvanas through, and fastened the flap before turning to Sylvanas. Sylvanas's eyes glimmered with some unspoken thought, and Jaina frowned at her. 

"Do not look so smug," she told Sylvanas, and then took a step closer to her.

The months-long separation melted away as the space between their bodies closed. Sylvanas slipped cold fingers around the back of Jaina's neck, and Jaina felt the solidness of her body, comforting. Sylvanas felt more real than anything in the Shadowlands. Jaina felt like she hadn't touched anything solid, anything that was truly there, since she last visited Stormwind Keep.

"We don't have much time," Jaina whispered to Sylvanas, shooting a glance at the closed flap of her tent. 

Sylvanas grinned at her. "A kiss for luck before battle does not take much time at all, Lady Proud-"

Jaina interrupted her mid-sentence, engulfing her mouth, drawing her tongue out, sliding their lips and tongues together. She quickly pulled her robes up to her hips, and Sylvanas leaned back, eyebrow arched. 

"Come on," Jaina huffed in exasperation. "Or has your passion faded? Has Blightcaller -"

Sylvanas scowled, making a dismissive gesture, sliding one hand around Jaina's ass under her robes. Jaina threw her arms back around Sylvanas's shoulders, pauldrons stiff and unyielding, biting into the flesh under her arms, and Sylvanas buried her face between Jaina's breasts and yanked down Jaina's smallclothes. They left a sticky trail down Jaina's thighs, and Jaina stepped out of them, spreading her legs, putting one hand under Sylvanas's chin to urge her face upward as she arched her back, body humming. 

Sylvanas tipped her head up and her hood slipped off, revealing her bone-white hair. It looked stiff, like Jaina's hair, but it was silky-soft under Jaina's fingers. They looked at each other for an endless moment, and then Sylvanas slipped her hand between Jaina's thighs and her face filled with wonder. 

Jaina drank in the expression. She wanted to ask Sylvanas,  _ Did you imagine I was not ready for you? Have you forgotten what my body feels like? This is how badly I want you, always.  _

Sylvanas's fingers slid smoothly against Jaina, seeking out her clit, and Jaina shuddered with the combination of pleasure and chill. She didn't remember Sylvanas's fingers being quite this cold before, but couldn't find it in herself to mind. 

"You feel so - so  _ alive,"  _ Sylvanas hissed, low in her throat. "Have you been waiting all this time for relief?"

"Yes," Jaina whispered, and then Sylvanas entered her roughly, holding her hips still with one arm around her, the other moving relentlessly, pounding against her entrance, stroking her inner places. Jaina bit her lip against a satisfied moan. Failing to restrain it, she cursed breathily before burying her face in the crook of her own arm, biting down on the cloth and skin, the pleasure of Sylvanas's touch mingling with the pain deliciously. 

"We have  _ hours," _ Sylvanas growled, and Jaina's body reacted, blossoming and gripping her fingers spasmodically. "I will strip you naked and pin you to that cot," she said, nodding toward the corner. "I'll wrap your body in chains and taste you until you howl my name so loudly that the entire war camp will hear you, and know that it is me and only me you allow to  _ bash’a anar suran." _ Sylvanas spoke the last words in Thalassian, hissing, and Jaina wished mightily that she could understand them. Her ears were ringing, and she wrenched her arm away from her face and buried it in Sylvanas's neck, gasping for air. 

_ Me and only me, _ Sylvanas had said. Jaina's hands were numb where they rested on Sylvanas's shoulders, and she felt like she was teetering on the edge of a precipice. Sylvanas's arms were so powerful, holding her tight, filling her. "Take me," Jaina whispered into Sylvanas's ear. "Make me yours, then, if that is what you desire."

"You are already mine," Sylvanas whispered, and she turned her face and dragged her teeth against Jaina's neck, making a complicated gesture with her hand inside Jaina. 

The peak rushed through Jaina, pounding like a heartbeat, bringing light sweetness with it. Sylvanas coaxed her through it, and when Jaina was finished she sagged against Sylvanas and the undead held her upright, touch unexpectedly gentle. 

"Will you have more of me?" Sylvanas asked her softly after a time, and Jaina stirred, supporting her own weight again. She wracked her memory, trying to determine whether she'd said Sylvanas's name. She thought she was silent, although now she wanted to tell Sylvanas,  _ Yes, you imbecile. It was you I wanted to have under me today, and furthermore I want  _ all _ of you, not just your fingers inside me for a few minutes.  _

She couldn't have all of Sylvanas. She couldn't live with Sylvanas and their son in the Proudmoore summer cottage by the river in the hinterlands of Kul Tiras; have her there to watch Kane grow, to teach him how to shoot a bow and speak Thalassian; to hold her before she slept. Jaina's bed would always be empty, and her heart could only feed on these short moments together. If only, Jaina thought with remorse, she had not fallen in love with a villain. 

"Go," Jaina told her, mouth dry. "Go, Sylvanas. I will see you on the battlefield."

Sylvanas took a step away, studying her. 

"Tell our son about me, then," she said ominously, her body beginning to dissolve into smoke. "Tell him about what I have done today."

  
  


Jaina cleansed herself quickly and exited her tent, finding Anduin sitting outside his own tent on a bench, eating ravenously. She went over to him, walking with the feeling of some tenderness between her legs. 

He swallowed, and then took a deep drink of water. "What did she say? Is she gone now?"

"Yes," Jaina said, and kicked herself for not at least asking Sylvanas at least a few actual questions. "She was not overly helpful. Have you decided what to do?"

Anduin took another drink and wiped his fingers on a cloth. "Everyone is deliberating. I think I will lead the Stormwind army to help Sylvanas, but each commander can make his own decision on whether they will throw in with us."

That meant Jaina could bring her own strike troops and champions. It was a good plan, she thought - and hopefully the rest of the commanders would be too embarrassed to allow the High King to walk into a battle unassisted after months of attempting to rescue him.

"The camp followers will go back to the portal, and bring news of our plan to Azeroth. That way, if we lose, at least they will know our fate."

Jaina thought of her son with a pang. If Sylvanas didn't succeed, it was most likely that he'd lose both parents today. Jaina wouldn't allow that to happen. 

"What happened to your hair?" Anduin asked her suddenly, and she put her hand up, feeling bumps in the braid.

Her face was instantly hot. "I - I have mussed it -" 

Anduin stood, looking at her closely. "Jaina… what were you doing with Sylvanas in your tent?" 

"I asked her about -"

Anduin's face showed sudden recognition, cutting her stammering off. "Vereesa is Sylvanas's sister. Sylvanas is a  _ high elf, _ isn't she?" He raised both eyebrows, having clearly made the one connection she'd hoped he never would make. 

"She is  _ dead, _ Anduin," Jaina said to him sharply. "And your suspicions could not be more ridiculous."

Anduin pressed his lips together, looking a little pale, but also amused. "The father doesn't know of Kane. Isn't that what you told me? I had always wondered why. And why did Sylvanas pick you to approach, among all the Alliance champions? Now I know."

Jaina gave him the haughtiest look she could muster, and walked quickly away before he could wheedle the truth out any more than he already had. She pulled briskly at her hair to release her braid. She had to prepare for battle now, which meant not becoming impossibly flustered by one boy king with far more sense than any nineteen year old should have.

  
  



	7. Chapter 7

It was immediately apparent that something had gone terribly wrong when the Alliance champions reached the designated spot. There they found the undead troops and the army of dead souls already routed. There were few of Death’s minions left, but Death himself was making sweeping strokes with his sword, and the dead souls fell under his blade, never to return. The undead broke ranks and fled. Sylvanas and a few of her remaining Dark Rangers shot arrow after arrow at Death from a perch on a nearby hill, to seemingly no effect whatsoever. A few Valkyrs circled overhead, and as Jaina watched, Death plucked one out of the air with a massive gauntlet and flung its motionless body to the ground. 

From beyond the rightmost ridge, a familiar shape appeared. It was Baine Bloodhoof, leading a small contingent of Tauren along with Thrall and his orcs, and Thalyssra and her nightborne. They hailed each other from afar, and Jaina approached Anduin. 

Genn was already there. “She needs backup, my king,” Genn told Anduin. Jaina couldn’t have put it any better.

“Charge!” Anduin shouted, pulling out his sword Shalamayne and pointing it at Death. The Alliance champions spurred their already flagging mounts toward the conflict ahead, leaving the foot soldiers behind. 

Death made a few more sweeps with his sword, and Sylvanas seemed to shout at him from her ridge, although it was too far away for Jaina to hear what she said to him. She was alone, and stood with back straight and proud as she faced her former master, goading him. He did not spare a glance around, so he had no chance to notice the reinforcements as they charged at him from behind. 

Jaina could see the moment that Sylvanas decided that the most she could do was distract Death from the approach of the Alliance and Horde champions. Sylvanas launched herself through the air and landed hard on Death's shoulder, and Death swatted at her as if she was a gnat. The dangerous tendrils of dark energy that had become so familiar to them in the Shadowlands wrapped around Sylvanas's legs, rendering them useless, but as she fell to her knees Sylvanas delivered two powerful stabs to Death’s neck.

They wouldn’t reach Death in time, Jaina realized with a sinking sensation. Sylvanas might distract him for long enough that they could reach striking range of him, but it wouldn’t be enough time to save Sylvanas. She spurred her gryphon on harder, only to have it falter in exhaustion. She wrapped their entire group in a spell for speed, seeing Baine's hoofbeats quicken as he prepared to dash to Death, seeing Anduin's teeth grit in preparation. Thalyssra pulled to a stop and began casting. Although they were now within range of Death, Jaina's vision narrowed to only Sylvanas. Sylvanas, whose already inert body was being plucked up between Death’s thumb and forefinger and then crushed, black ichor spouting between his fingers. 

Jaina’s gryphon collapsed under her, and she rolled out of the way and caught Sylvanas’s body with magic mid-air as Death flung her away from him. Baine thundered up to Death, as Thalyssra’s spell caused a blossom of fire to consume Death’s head. Jaina conjured fifteen elementals, all with her own elemental’s soul, and collapsed with the effort onto the ground, lowering Sylvanas’s body through the air to her. 

She was utterly crushed. The brittle undead bones of her rib cage and hips had completely shattered, spiking out of the skin, and much of the inner tissues of her torso had burst out of her skin and seeped through her armor. Jaina raised her eyes from Sylvanas just one last time, freezing Death’s feet to the ground with a gesture, and then she lowered her forehead to Sylvanas’s and whispered, “I will not lose you.” 

There was no response from Sylvanas. Jaina was no necromancer. She wasn't even a healer. But she knew that the souls that were destroyed by Death and his minions in the Shadowlands could not be raised, not by conventional resurrection nor the darker side of necromancy. The physical damage to Sylvanas's body was less relevant than the length of Death's touch on Sylvanas. That much time in even one of his minions’ embraces would have been fatal. 

The battle against Death was cacophonous all around them. Jaina felt more than heard a giant footfall, and thought that maybe Death had been able to break the freezing spell on his feet. Glancing up, she saw that actually he’d somehow been pushed over and had fallen to the ground, and warriors and paladins swarmed around his head. Parts of his body began to dissolve into insubstantial smoke, like Sylvanas when she took her banshee form. 

Jaina lowered her gaze back to Sylvanas, feeling both drained and emotionally exhausted. Her reserves of magical energy were almost gone. She no longer cared about the fate of Death, although a part of her mind worried about Baine and Anduin and the rest. This final battle would be theirs - and Jaina would sit here, cradling Sylvanas’s body, torn between mourning and fury. She remembered what Sylvanas had asked her to do only hours before - _Tell our son what I have done this day._

“You suppose that you could sacrifice yourself for your cause,” Jaina growled at Sylvanas, holding her unmarred, inert face in both hands. She was as cold and perfect as a statue. “You have wished for true death since Arthas. What made you think that you had the _choice_ to escape the mortal coil? This will not be the last time that Azeroth needs you, Sylvanas."

The Banshee Queen did not stir. Her eyes did not open. 

"I won't let you go," Jaina informed her, exhaling the last of the arcane energy she had left in her onto Sylvanas's face. “I’ll stand beside you, not only for today but every day. I’ll forgive your crimes; I won’t let anyone touch you. I’ll bring Kane to Kul Tiras as my heir, and your son. But you must come back.” 

The sounds of battle abruptly ceased, and a collective sigh was breathed. Jaina heard none of it. She pressed her forehead against Sylvanas’s, feeling the coldness of her skin on her hands, and then her lips as she kissed Sylvanas lightly, thinking that it would be their last kiss.

“You went into this battle not intending to walk out of it,” Jaina murmured against Sylvanas’s lips. “Let me give you something to live for.”

A weight fell on Jaina’s shoulder, and she jolted away from Sylvanas, looking behind her, expecting to see Anduin or Baine’s pitying eyes. 

But it was not either of them. It was Sylvanas’s hand on Jaina’s shoulder. Her eyes opened, narrow slits of glowing red light, and a stale breath puffed out of her lips. Her body was wrapping itself in shadow tendrils, her own and not Death’s, fusing bone and muscle, absorbing the little ichor that remained inside her, drawing her flesh back together under her armor. 

Sylvanas sighed again, and met Jaina’s eyes, humming in her throat. “What did I miss?” she asked her, voice grating, the Banshee echo a faint whisper.

Jaina would never know whether it was her words, her magic, or simply a set amount of time that Sylvanas had needed to recover from that close call. But she never regretted, for the rest of her days, that when Sylvanas spoke to her she laughed and kissed Sylvanas again.

  
  


The gathered armies began to pull back together. The alliance ground troops stood in ranks, the Horde loitered, and the dead and undead flocked toward Sylvanas. There were more of them left than Jaina would have expected; perhaps some had been able, like Sylvanas, to recover from Death's devastating blows. Sylvanas's Dark Rangers staggered down from their embankment, as broken as Sylvanas, but with fierce smiles on their faces. In fact… now that Jaina was looking, the undead and the dead were also smiling, a sharp contrast to the living, who continued to draw closer to Sylvanas with a question in their eyes. Jaina shared it, too. _Is it done? Is Death no more?_

Jaina helped Sylvanas stand, surprised at how heavy her small body was. She kept her arm around Sylvanas's back after she stood, and Sylvanas shot her a look but did not pull away, either. 

"We are free!" Sylvanas shouted, and the undead erupted in ragged cheers. Sylvanas looked around the gathered armies, including the living in her gaze. Jaina caught a glimpse of a spectral shape that looked, if she was not mistaken, like Varian Wrynn. He stood beside Anduin, whose eyes were red with tears. 

"This is not my victory. It belongs to you. To the Dead. To the Alliance… and to the Horde. Tonight, celebrate together, and tomorrow we shall see what a world without Death can be."

Sylvanas released Jaina and took a heavy seat on the ground, and Anduin shouted instructions to the support personnel to set up camp. A few of the Horde orcs uncorked flasks and passed them around, and the Alliance shieldmen were the first to take them. Drinks passed from green hands to gantleted ones, and Jaina's heart filled with a sense of deep relief.

Sylvanas's Dark Rangers clustered around her, and she spoke lowly to them. Jaina went to Anduin where he met with Baine and Thrall.

"Someday, I'd like to hear the story of how she drew you out here," Anduin was saying. "But not today, old friend." He noticed Jaina, and wiggled his eyebrows at her. She looked quickly away. 

"It is a moment for celebration," Thrall said, dipping his head with his characteristic humbleness. His eye caught Jaina's, stayed there. "I wish to record the experiences of the undead that marched with us this day. What did they hear, when Death was no more?"

"Quiet," Jaina murmured back to him. She knew that much, from what Sylvanas had told her. "Their minds are now wholly their own."

"Good," Anduin said, looking around for Varian, who had gone to Sylvanas where she sat. Jaina thought Sylvanas looked drained - the smile had faded a little, and her shoulders stooped. She had lost her bow, Jaina realized. Perhaps her Dark Rangers would find it. 

The fallen elves were dispersing, mingling with the undead, who eyed the living but didn't approach them. 

Thrall was the first to break that last barrier, approaching a cluster of undead with pen in hand. They turned to speak with him eagerly, and Jaina went back to Sylvanas. 

_Jaina,_ Varian's ghost whispered in acknowledgement, turning toward her. 

"Varian," Jaina responded. "Do you intend to restore your body?" She meant to ask if he'd allow Sylvanas to raise him. Without the harassment of Death, undeath was a much more appealing option. 

Varian just smiled faintly. _The Legion left only ashes behind. I am not sure it is worthwhile to live as a cloud of dust._

"I lived as far less than that for many years," Sylvanas told him. She closed her eyes, wincing deeply. Jaina had never imagined what exhaustion would look like on her face, but now she knew. 

_You should rest,_ Varian whispered. 

Sylvanas sighed, settled backward into the rocks behind her. 

"Come," Jaina said, going on a knee beside her and offering her hand. "Come with me to Kul Tiras, Sylvanas. You are in no shape for revelry today."

Sylvanas's glowing eyes opened a slit, and she took Jaina's hand. Jaina conjured a small portal, all she could manage, to the exit in Icecrown, and walked supporting Sylvanas through. She didn't bother to look behind, not wishing to see the judgement of the most important people in Azeroth.

The world inverted itself as they fell through the sky at Icecrown, losing momentum until the moment of inversion, and Jaina drew a new portal below them as the ground became sky. They fell gently through the portal and onto Jaina's bed in her chambers at the Proudmoore Keep.

Sylvanas groaned and stayed still, lying there on her belly. Her armor leaked ichor onto the bedspread. 

Jaina gently unbuckled her chestplate, wondering if Sylvanas would refuse her touch or, like the last time they were here, turn into her spectral form to disrobe. She did neither, and Jaina pressed a tender kiss to her cheek. 

"What do you need?" Jaina asked her. 

"Water," Sylvanas croaked, and Jaina slipped off the bed and poured water from a pitcher at the bedside. Sylvanas pushed up on one hand and drank it all in one gulp, so Jaina offered her the pitcher, which she drank directly from. 

"My body will be a touch more pure for at least a time, now," Sylvanas said, grinning. She fumbled under her arm at the clasp for her pauldrons, and Jaina sat back down on the bed and helped her unlatch them, and then the rest. Sylvanas pulled off the tattered underarmor shirt, and Jaina gasped to see the flesh on her torso still marred by long, broken lines.

"It will heal," Sylvanas told her, and even as Jaina watched some of her skin pulled together and fused, leaving a jagged black line behind. 

"I'm not fit for company," Sylvanas told her as they worked off the armor on her legs. "Why did you bring me with you here?"

She hadn't heard what Jaina said when she was unconscious, then. A part of Jaina was relieved; maybe she'd promised too much. 

"I hope you don't consider me company," Jaina said instead. "I thought you might prefer the trappings of civilization." She hazarded a glance at Sylvanas, who was looking back at her with an open expression. "And a chance to rest. You defeated Death today."

"I can't say that I mind," Sylvanas said. She pulled off the rest of her clothing and then slid off the bed, dumping her armor on the floor. 

Her body was broken and filthy, but Sylvanas was never self-conscious and she stood before Jaina with head slightly cocked, looking back at her.

"A bath, perhaps?" Jaina offered, standing and pulling the cover off the bed. It had absorbed the stains of Sylvanas's ichor, and none had come through to the blanket and sheets. "Are you still… leaking?" She went over to Sylvanas and reached out a hand to stroke her stomach, which was wet and dark still. 

Sylvanas smiled at her. "Mostly not," she said, hunching her shoulders. "If you could -" She turned around, and Jaina saw a gaping gash across her shoulders. The flesh was still hanging off her, and both her shoulder blades were visible. "Just pull the skin together?"

Jaina swallowed down her disgust and took Sylvanas's skin between her fingers, folding it up to meet the skin above. It fused, not as well as the skin on her stomach, but appeared to be holding together. 

"Now I shouldn't 'leak,'" Sylvanas said, sighing. "And yes, a bath would do nicely."

Jaina went into the bathroom. The window filtered white light from the afternoon sun, and Jaina took in the brightness gratefully. It felt like a lifetime since she'd seen even filtered sunlight.

She plugged the stopper for the bath and, rather than waiting for the plumbing, she simply conjured water and heated it up with a wave of her hand. 

Sylvanas climbed in and turned the water instantly black and murky. She sighed. "It's warm."

Jaina laughed. "Yes, I suppose it is." She realized that her own robes were covered in ichor and dirt, and stripped off the upper layers, leaving just a slip. 

She made the water in the bath vanish, and Sylvanas jumped a little, looking around at her. "Here's some more," Jaina said, and she turned on the faucet. Sylvanas watched the water as it flowed out the spigot, and then turned back to Jaina. 

"Would you bring me that pitcher?" she asked Jaina. 

Jaina laughed. She couldn't help it; Sylvanas was so guileless. 

She fetched the pitcher and handed it to Sylvanas, who filled the pitcher from the faucet and then drank it all again, sighing. The water was much cleaner, and up to her ankles now. Sylvanas found the bar soap and started lathering herself. 

"Is our son here?" she asked suddenly. "I have heard no baby's cries."

"I - no," Jaina told her. "Kane is in Stormwind."

"Kane," Sylvanas repeated, rolling the word around in her mouth. "Kane… Proudmoore."

Jaina sighed, pulling a stool over to the side of the bath, and took the soap from Sylvanas. "I haven't yet presented him to my mother," she told Sylvanas, dipping her hand into the water and rubbing the soap on a towel before gently running the towel over Sylvanas's shoulders and neck. 

"Kane, Clanless," Sylvanas amended, looking over her shoulder at Jaina. "I would give him my name, happily."

"I never doubted you would," Jaina said, surprised that she felt affection and not bitterness. "I was waiting until after - after everything was finished in the Shadowlands. Kane was staying in Stormwind City, but some ruffians tried to kidnap him, and so I moved him into Anduin's protection. I thought given that I was absent, it would be best to keep him there. He is safe."

Sylvanas nodded and took the towel from Jaina, using the clean water to wash away the soap and then cleaning her skin with it. "Questions will be asked about his parentage," she murmured, as if to herself. "Tell me," she said, turning to pin Jaina in her gaze. "Does he look like me?"

Jaina laughed. "No," she told Sylvanas, smoothing the white hair away from purple skin at Sylvanas's temple. "His eyes are white and his hair is spun gold."

"His ears?" Sylvanas asked, her own flicking like Kane's did when he was thinking. "How long?"

Jaina measured it out with her hands apart. "Over his head," she told her. 

"He does look like me. How I once looked," she amended. "There are few options, but I am sure -"

Jaina interrupted her. "I have already told your sister. Anduin knows, too. It is only my mother, and I - I will tell her the truth."

Sylvanas stilled, looking contemplative. "Now I've conquered Death, perhaps my name is cleared?" she asked hesitantly. 

"Perhaps," Jaina agreed, reaching out to take the cloth from Sylvanas's hand and rubbing the last of the soap off her skin. "I am finding it difficult to care what the world thinks, now."

"Tomorrow you will care," Sylvanas informed her briskly, popping the plug out of the bath and reaching for a towel. 

"Then let's be happy today," Jaina told her. She bathed herself quickly standing up, and Sylvanas watched her from the threshold, wringing out her hair. Then Jaina put on her nightgown and slipped into the covers, pulling Sylvanas after her. 

It was warm under the covers, and Sylvanas's body retained the heat from the bath as she settled her head on Jaina's chest, entwining their hands together and letting their naked legs touch. Jaina stroked Sylvanas's back and hair. Her hands were quickly weighed down by exhaustion, and she settled them around Sylvanas's shoulders, feeling completely at peace, and slept. 


	8. Chapter 8

Jaina woke up in a startle with the unfamiliar weight of another person's hand on her shoulder blade. She turned to her side and met glowing red eyes. 

Sylvanas stretched lazily, catlike, grinning. "You slept deeply, Lady Proudmoore."

Jaina returned the smile, her alarm fading into a sense of deep contentment. "And you? Do you sleep at night, banshee?"

Her mind flashed to Stormwind, where Kane waited for her return, but she only had Sylvanas for one morning and wouldn't waste it. She'd go directly to Stormwind once she was finished with Sylvanas.

"I… do rest. For many years I did not. But I remembered the meditations of Silvermoon and regained the ability to rest a few years ago." Sylvanas's eyes danced in amusement. "Any other questions about my physiology?"

Jaina blinked the last of sleep from her eyes and pulled down the bedcovers, revealing Sylvanas's naked torso. She hummed, flattening her palms on Sylvanas's stomach. "A few," she murmured, and then she opened her mouth and kissed Sylvanas's chest, at the top of the only scar she bore - a scar with a raised, puckered white line. A scar she had the sneaking suspicion was the mark Arthas left on her body upon her death.

Sylvanas's breath shuttered out in an uneven hiss, but she did not pull away. Jaina followed the line of the scar down Sylvanas's chest to where it ended, just above her belly button. She let her hands roam up Sylvanas's chest and settle on her breasts, and then she pushed up in the bed and kissed Sylvanas's lips. 

Sylvanas deepened the kiss, opening her mouth receptively to Jaina, and Jaina's heart burned hotly in her chest. She settled her body on Sylvanas, propping herself up on one arm, and kneaded Sylvanas's breast with more purpose, bringing Sylvanas's nipple to attention.

Sylvanas cradled Jaina's hips between her thighs, sighing into Jaina's mouth. Jaina felt her body respond, warmth settling in her belly, skin prickling where they touched. She nuzzled Sylvanas's chin, kissing her there, and tenderly traced the line of her neck down to her collarbone. She placed an open-mouthed kiss on Sylvanas's other nipple, and Sylvanas arched her back in offering. 

Jaina's hips lurched forward. The friction between her legs and the contact of her lower belly against Sylvanas's core made pleasure shoot through her body, and she gasped. Sylvanas raised one leg, and Jaina reached between their bodies to grab her ass, tracing up her thigh to the inside of her knee, applying pressure to push her leg up more. 

Sylvanas's eyes were hooded. She gently ran her fingers through the hair at the base of Jaina's neck, arresting the momentum of their escalation. 

Jaina's heart dropped. Something must have showed in her face, because Sylvanas smiled reassuringly up at her. Still she did not speak, and so Jaina asked, "Do you want me?"

Sylvanas nodded, a shadow passing over her face. 

"What is wrong?"

Sylvanas seemed to cast around for words, and failing to find any, she pulled Jaina down to kiss her. Jaina returned the kiss, mind racing. She tried to remember how it had gone their first night together, the only night Jaina had touched Sylvanas in return. Sylvanas had orgasmed easily and often with Jaina's fingers against her clit, but they'd started with Jaina. When Sylvanas exhausted her, she'd ridden Jaina's face, and then they'd touched each other. 

"My mouth," Jaina mumbled into Sylvanas's kiss, and then she pulled away and looked at Sylvanas. "You need my mouth on you first." 

Sylvanas was still, her face unreadable, but then she nodded slightly and Jaina sighed in relief. She kissed Sylvanas deeply, and then she pushed down in the bed and kissed each of Sylvanas's hip bones, mouth watering in anticipation. 

Sylvanas re-positioned her hips slightly, and Jaina hooked her arms under her legs and kissed the junction of each of her thighs. 

Sylvanas's body was scentless, which Jaina had forgotten. Her taste was faintly salty, dry, although her clit was erect and Sylvanas gasped the moment that Jaina's lips closed around it. 

She sucked gently, and then flattened her tongue and licked down and up Sylvanas, leaving no part of her neglected. Sylvanas seemed to like that just as much, and Jaina delved her tongue deeper, tracing her entrance, making small thrusting motions with her tongue and body. It reminded her of her own arousal, and without thinking more on it, Jaina let her right hand drift down to cup herself. 

Sylvanas shuddered, threading her hand in Jaina's hair gently without guiding her. Jaina left her entrance - her jaw was already beginning to ache, unfortunately - and closed her lips around Sylvanas's clit again. She sucked rhythmically, her own body alight, and her finger slipped between her own folds. She moaned, and Sylvanas gasped harshly in response, hips jumping with sensitivity. 

Jaina slipped a finger into herself, bringing her tongue back to Sylvanas's entrance, imagining that her finger was inside Sylvanas instead. She thrust her tongue and finger in tandem, eagerly, burying her face against Sylvanas. 

"Fuck," Sylvanas gasped, pulling at Jaina's hair to pull her face away. She met Sylvanas's eyes, chest heaving, and Sylvanas's gaze flickered down Jaina's body. 

"You're touching yourself," Sylvanas observed.

"I - I'm - do you like that?" Jaina stumbled, trying to read Sylvanas. "Was I too rough?" she added, pulling her finger out of herself, beginning to feel lost. 

"You're mine to touch," Sylvanas informed her, deep in her throat. _"Only_ mine." 

"Yes," Jaina promised, mind whirring. Sylvanas flipped their positions, moving down on Jaina's body to clamp her legs on either side of her thighs. If anything, the new position only increased Jaina's sensitivity. Her hands grabbed Sylvanas's hips, bringing her breasts together under her nightgown.

As intended, the motion attracted Sylvanas's attention. Rather than trying to pull the nightdress off her, Sylvanas gripped the low neckline of Jaina's nightdress and ripped it down to her stomach. She tweaked both of Jaina's nipples, and buried her face between Jaina's breasts, making a sound of exertion. 

Her body was settled near the top of Jaina's thighs, and she slipped a little farther up, contacting her core against Jaina's mound. They both sighed and Sylvanas ground down, smearing the remainants of Jaina's spit against Jaina. Sylvanas sat back up and kept thrusting, and Jaina saw stars. 

"Your finger," Sylvanas rasped. Jaina obliged, moving her left hand around Sylvanas's stomach, and Sylvanas shook her head and grabbed Jaina's right hand. "I want your wetness against me."

"Yes," Jaina breathed. She slipped her right hand between Sylvanas's thighs instead, and Sylvanas clamped her legs hard around Jaina's thighs as Jaina rubbed her essence against Sylvanas's clit. 

"Inside?" Sylvanas whispered, and Jaina looked back up at her. Her face showed a hint of hesitation, but Jaina twisted her wrist and slid her finger partially inside, finding Sylvanas's body had retained the moisture from Jaina's tongue. She thrust gently, experimentally, and Sylvanas shuddered and settled her body, trapping Jaina's hand beneath her with her finger almost completely inside. 

Sylvanas sighed. "It's been more than twenty years," she told Jaina. "But you feel so good." Her body rippled around Jaina's finger, and when she raised her hips slightly, Jaina thrust fully inside and stroked her finger against Sylvanas's front wall. 

"Harder," Sylvanas commanded, and Jaina pulled her finger partially out to capture more of the wetness outside and then thrust back into her. Sylvanas trembled and twitched, and Jaina flattened her palm against her entrance and pressed the flat of her finger against Sylvanas.

Sylvanas slammed her hips back down against Jaina's mound, squeezing her thighs together with unholy strength. Jaina almost wept with how good that felt, again aware of her own body's response, feeling the wetness between her own thighs. She thrust her hips up into Sylvanas, and Sylvanas arched and rode her finger, grinding her clit against Jaina's palm, body gripping Jaina's finger tightly. 

Jaina cried out and Sylvanas paused, loosening her legs, searching her face.

"No," Jaina gasped. "More. You're so - so, so - good, I -" Sylvanas's position gave Jaina's hand more leeway, and she thrust into her, arching her own back, crossing her legs and grinding her hips down into the bed. 

"You enjoy fucking me," Sylvanas observed breathily. Jaina couldn't believe that she was surprised. She'd given as much as she took their first time, hadn't she? But never like this. She'd never been so close to orgasm just by touching another woman, but the thought of her wetness inside Sylvanas, and the tightness of Sylvanas's thighs around Jaina's, made it seem almost possible. Jaina slammed her palm against Sylvanas's clit, stroking her inside, hoping to draw Sylvanas back down against her mound. 

"Please," Jaina breathed. "I want to make you come."

Sylvanas tightened her legs and pressed her body back down against Jaina's, circling her hips. Jaina pushed up into her with her own hips and her finger, crying out her own pleasure. Sylvanas settled into a back-and-forth rhythm, and Jaina's body matched it thrust for thrust, giving herself over to Sylvanas. 

Sylvanas paused, and Jaina broke the rhythm, over-eager hips stuttering quick beats as her finger pressed against Sylvanas unrelentingly. 

Sylvanas's body rippled around her and her eyes closed, and Jaina felt relief wash over her, loosening her limbs. They sighed together, and Jaina worked her finger inside Sylvanas, hoping to draw out an orgasm from Sylvanas before she was incapacitated by the end of her own release. 

Sylvanas pulled herself away from Jaina, pushing Jaina's hand away, and Jaina pouted. "Did you come?" she asked Sylvanas as the other woman settled against her, breast-to-breast, hand already seeking Jaina out. 

"Mmm, yes, and it was heavenly," Sylvanas murmured, kissing Jaina lazily. "Now it's your turn."

Jaina laughed. "At least give me a moment to recover," she said, and Sylvanas pulled away, arching an eyebrow. 

"What do you mean?"

"Oh," Jaina said, cupping Sylvanas's face in her dry hand. "You rode me to completion, dearest."

Sylvanas laughed unbelievingly. "You enjoyed my body quite a lot, then."

"I told you," Jaina said to her. A heaviness filled her chest, the weight of words unspoken. Sylvanas did not need to hear those words, but they suffocated Jaina anyway. She'd thought herself capable of putting Azeroth before her feelings for Sylvanas, but now that it seemed that the two might no longer be in conflict, she was even more overwhelmed. 

"What do you plan to do now?" she asked Sylvanas, imagining that another war might be on Sylvanas's mind. 

"I will return to Windrunner Spire in the Ghostlands," Sylvanas told her. "There are many lost souls there I was unable to reach while the Lich King's crown was whole. I hope to reach them now."

"Can you - can you set them free?" 

"One way or another," Sylvanas said softly. "At least now I think they will be able to tell me what they want."

"And will they tolerate your presence? In Silvermoon?"

"Lor'themar was a close friend while I lived," Sylvanas told Jaina. "He and I maintained a cold truce while we occupied the Undercity, and I supported his efforts to join the Horde when he tried. I kept Nathanos between us while I was Warchief, which only made him more suspicious of my intentions. Truthfully, I could not explain my plan to him, but did not relish lying to his face. I think if I approached him to propose a true effort to restore the Blighted Lands, he would welcome it. The _sin'dorei_ have been equal only to the task of maintaining their borders against the Scourge."

"You'll live in peace? Is that what you truly want?"

Sylvanas huffed out a low chuckle. "If true death continues to escape me, I may as well try to find peace a different way." She shot a look down at Jaina's hand where it had tightened around her narrow ribcage. 

Jaina was remembering what she'd said to an unconscious Sylvanas in the Shadowlands. _Let me give you a reason to live._ Of course Sylvanas's plan made the most sense, but some part of Jaina wished to keep Sylvanas here with her, as her consort in Kul Tiras. 

Jaina's life was far too complicated to even begin to entertain that idea. She exhaled, trying to dispel the tightness in her chest. 

"I'll keep you from true death as long as you'll let me," she told Sylvanas, staring at the curtains over the far window. "I need you far too much to lose you to war."

"Well, then, you know where to find me," Sylvanas said. She turned Jaina's face with a finger, urging her to look at her. "And you will be welcome there, for as long as you can tolerate it."

"You said I'm only yours to touch," Jaina said slowly. "Will you - be mine as well?"

Sylvanas searched Jaina's face, and Jaina forced herself to keep her gaze steady. "That is what you want?" Sylvanas chuckled lowly. "I am not sure if you know me at all. Did you imagine that I took many lovers! Look at me."

"Before every battle," Jaina murmured. "I imagined."

"Perhaps in life, but it has been many years since I lived. No. I took a lover among my rangers for a few months after taking the Undercity, and found it not to my liking. You are the only other. No, you do not need to extract any promise of fidelity from me." 

"I want to hear it anyway," Jaina admitted, although the tightness in her chest was much relieved now. 

Sylvanas pushed herself up on one elbow, the pose somehow girlish. "Very well. Jaina Proudmoore, I vow that you will be my only lover, until which time we mutually agree to separate."

The sincerity of her tone almost made Jaina giggle, but she tried to neutralize her expression before speaking. "Is that a standard statement? You're quite formal."

Sylvanas returned her smile and wrapped her right hand around Jaina's, bringing it against her unbeating heart. "Yes. I have accepted your love. Now you're supposed to return the vow."

Jaina did let herself giggle then. "I am afraid some of the meaning must have been lost in translation," she informed Sylvanas. "Accept my love?"

"You've asked to bond," Sylvanas informed her, and Jaina had the sense finally that she was being toyed with. She raised her hand to push Sylvanas's shoulder, and Sylvanas dodged, laughing. "I don't understand your love, but I've accepted it, haven't I?" Sylvanas added, voice muffled by the blankets she'd buried her face in. 

Jaina's mood sobered. "I am beginning to," Jaina told her. "Shall I tell you why?"

Sylvanas turned her head so that one glowing eye was visible. "Certainly. But first, let me tell you why I love you. Starting with this." She touched Jaina's nose with the tip of her finger, and Jaina swatted her hand away.

"And this," Sylvanas continued, putting her hand between Jaina's legs. 

What started as a simple touch became immediately distracting, and it was noon before they had any more time to really talk. Jaina did have to admit that the experience was an education in Thalassian words for body parts, among other lessons.

Jaina conjured a portal for Sylvanas back to Stratholme, a location she could still access despite everything - and the place closest to the Ghostlands and Windrunner Spire. 

"You were there before it was razed?" Sylvanas asked her, pausing before the portal. 

"Many times," Jaina told her. The icy grip of regret closed around her heart as it always did when she thought of Arthas, and what he became. 

Sylvanas searched her face. "I thought you went from Kul Tiras to Kalimdor by way of Dalaran."

Jaina laughed a little. "My tale is more complicated than that," she told her quietly. 

"A tale for another time, then?" Sylvanas probed gently. Jaina just nodded, and Sylvanas stepped through.

Jaina drew the next portal up quickly. It was too late in the day for comfort, although she couldn’t compel herself to regret anything. Even as she anticipated seeing her son, she missed his mother. 

The babies’ nursery in Stormwind was empty - not too surprising, didn’t they nap in the afternoons? Jaina checked the royal gardens from the balcony, seeing nothing. The kitchens were her next stop, where she asked after Helda. 

The cooks gave her looks and shook their heads, and Jaina began panicking. Had Helda left the keep? She couldn’t find it in herself to distrust Helda, but she was only a girl, and Jaina knew too well that girls made poor decisions on occasion. Where had Helda taken Kane? Something in Jaina’s chest howled its dismay. 

She left the kitchens and stopped a guard on patrol. “Helda the nursemaid? Have you seen her?”

He opened his mouth to respond, and then seemingly thought better of it and shut his mouth again. 

Jaina nearly reached out to shake him. “What is it? Where is she?”

“The lower courtyard nearest the docks,” he said, clearing his throat and shifting from boot to boot. “Usually. At this time of day.”

Jaina didn’t have any time to speculate on his odd behavior. She blinked down the corridors, taking long steps between blinks, trying to remember the layout of the keep. 

She exited the keep proper and leaned over the wall at the top of a long set of stairs, sighing in relief when she saw Helda and the babies. Kane was running with confidence, short, stocky legs propelling him forward toward Helda, and the other baby had fallen in the grass and was rolling to a crawling position. Jaina squinted - Helda was seated at a stone bench under a tree, and - yes, there was a man with her.

A man in the Stormwind guard’s uniform, but with his helmet at his feet. Surely they hadn’t assigned Helda her own personal guard? Wouldn’t Jaina have been informed if another incident occurred?

Jaina jumped down from the height of the stairs, slowing her fall with a spell. She landed near the other baby, who looked up at her with trepidation. 

Kane was holding Helda by the knees where she sat with the guardsman, and turned around immediately, spotting her. He gave a shout and trotted to her, chest heaving and cheeks pink with exertion. 

She dropped to her knees to receive him. He babbled gratefully to her, and Helda stood to approach them. The guardsman followed in her wake, putting back on his helmet. 

Jaina looked at him as Helda scooped her son up in her arms. The guardsman had kind eyes and beefy hands, and otherwise was identical to any other guardsman Jaina had met. 

Helda spoke first. “Milady. You are back. Staying for long?”

Jaina’s lip twisted. “I had planned to bring Kane with me to Boralus in a few day’s time.” Her eyes flickered to the guardsman questioningly, and Kane touched her chin with his tiny fingers, his other hand gripping and releasing the fabric of her shirt at her shoulder. 

“Oh, yes. This is Jacob Middleton of Goldshire. He helped with, um - he helped find the brigands that attacked us at the cottage."

"A pleasure," Jaina said cooly, and the guardsman fumbled to take back off his helmet and bowed deeply, flushing. 

"How did you accomplish that?"

"Somebody sent in a tip," he told her. "Milady. The brigands were bragging, trying to get together with another gang, but nobody was stupid enough to try to come into the keep. When we got the tip, we brought 'em all in and they're in prison for the rest of their miserable lives. Their leader was executed."

"Very good," Jaina told him, and he smiled hopefully at her. She frowned at him, sensing that something was up. 

"Is this your lunchtime, guardsman?"

He stumbled, "Yes, ma'am. Milady." He looked up toward the belltower. "Just ending. I will - just be going now, thank you for - thank you."

Jaina watched him stiffly walk off, and then Kane gargled at her. "Ana," he said distinctly, and Jaina smiled at him, happy that he remembered the nickname.

"He's been asking about you," Helda ventured. 

"I was gone for too long this time," Jaina said, kissing Kane's head. He still smelled the same, and Jaina's heart overflowed. "But now it is done. I think there will be at least a few more months of peace." She chuckled at her own joke, rolling her eyes, and Kane babbled back at her as if she was speaking to him.

"And you, my little one? What have you been doing?" Jaina looked at Helda. "I see that he has learned to run." 

"And he is talking more and more," Helda added. "He likes Jacob, and it's good for a man to talk to him on occasion, I think."

"I suppose so," Jaina agreed, pinning Helda with a hard look. "If you intend to ask my permission do not bother, you are your own woman. And I am sure you do not need any lectures from me, and that you've learned your lesson -"

"He has already proposed to me," Helda interrupted in a rush. 

Jaina was momentarily speechless. She cleared her throat. "Then you will stay in Stormwind, I imagine?" 

"You'll take Kane with you to Boralus?" Helda's face fell a little. 

"We will visit here often," Jaina assured her, before looking back at Kane. "But I have the feeling that now he is weaned, it may be time for me to take on more responsibilities. I'll give you access to the mage's tower with the portal, and a pass on the ferries. You can visit anytime you like."

"And… the cottage?"

"Is waiting for you," Jaina assured her.

Helda smiled back at her warmly. "Then let me show you what he likes to eat these days," she said, beginning to walk toward the stairs. 

  
  


Jaina stepped through her own portal into her study in Kul Tiras with Kane on her hip. She sat him down on the circular carpet at the center of the study and began putting away a few of the books, stacking others to be taken back to the main library, thinking through her next steps. 

She'd have to arrange for another maid to watch Kane during the day, and have a bed brought here for the nighttime. Helda told her that he still woke a few times a night, and that she should keep a few biscuits for him in case he was hungry. First, though, Jaina would have to send for her mother. She couldn't make any arrangements until her mother was notified. 

She sighed and sat down at her desk, beginning to unscrew the lid of her inkwell. She was interrupted by a loud crash in the bedroom, and stood quickly, scanning the room for Kane. He wasn't there, but the bedroom door was open. Had Sylvanas somehow…? 

Jaina rushed to the bedroom to find Kane sitting in a pool of water, his hand mostly inside the large metal pitcher Sylvanas had just used for drinking. He lowered a flat palm to the ground and splashed the water, giggling to himself. 

"Kane," Jaina sighed, dropping to her knees in the water. She removed his hand from the pitcher and put it back on the bedside table.

The bed was made, and all signs of the bath cleared away. The staff had been there since she left. Somehow they always knew when she was out. 

Jaina shook her head and picked Kane up. He was soaked in water head-to-toe, the fine white linens of his shirt and pants sticking wetly to his body. She hadn't thought to bring more clothing for him - perhaps she could dry off the clothing if she removed it - Kane laughed brightly at her as if he'd pulled a prank. 

A knock sounded at the door, and Katherine Proudmoore's voice filtered through. "Jaina? Are you back from the Shadowlands? We received a note from the front lines that the battle was over yesterday."

Jaina steeled herself, standing straighter, and Kane stuck his fingers in his mouth and looked at her thoughtfully. 

"Yes, Mother," she called. She cast a glance around the room, and then took a towel from the stack in the bathroom and threw it over the puddle of water. 

"Will you be joining for afternoon tea, then?" Katherine asked hopefully through the door.

Jaina went into the study, closing the bedroom door behind her, and opened the door to her study to Katherine standing alone in the dim corridor. 

"Please, come in," Jaina told her mother. She went to the north-facing window and opened it, letting in the cool mid-December breeze. Kane looked at Katherine over Jaina's shoulder.

Jaina heard the door close behind her mother, and took a deep breath, closing her eyes. 

She turned to the fire, lighting it with a gesture, and then indicated one of the plush seats by the fireside to Katherine. Katherine took the seat, her eyes slightly narrowed as she took in Jaina and Kane standing by the window. 

"Well, I had intended to first inquire as to whether you were victorious in the Shadowlands. Now I find myself with a different question. Did you find a child on the battlefield?" 

Jaina sighed and moved to sit across from Katherine. Kane wiggled in her arms, so she sat him on his feet, and he held onto her knee and stayed standing, staring right back at Katherine. 

"Not exactly, mother," Jaina said finally. 

"You weren't gone but five months. This couldn't be your child," Katherine said sharply, cutting to the chase. Jaina was reminded of Vereesa's reaction. Helda told her that Vereesa had visited Kane a few times while Jaina was in the Shadowlands, which Jaina had not prohibited, but it seemed impossible for Kane to have a normal relationship with his aunt given what Vereesa had said. 

Would Katherine be any better? Especially considering the magnitude of Jaina's deception. When she went to Kul Tiras to recruit her homeland for the Alliance war effort, she hadn't seen her mother in the eighteen years since she founded Theramore. When she presented herself she'd been immediately branded a traitor and sent to be imprisoned. Yet it had been Katherine who had saved her, in the end. This was the final step in repairing her relationship with her mother, a relationship complicated by the passage of time. 

Of course they'd exchanged letters. While Jaina studied in Dalaran, and when she visited her intended in Lordaeron, her mother had eagerly inquired about her progress and her future. Katherine had assumed that her only daughter would marry a prince in a distant kingdom, but she had always been supportive of Jaina's own personal ambitions. The last letter Jaina had received in Theramore from her mother had been delivered by her father in person, and it had included an inquiry about her romantic life, only a year after Arthas's fall. 

Jaina began, "You have been badgering Tandred about heirs. You haven't asked me to marry, though. Why?"

"You are too old," Katherine said immediately, although her eyes were still on Kane, who sat down heavily and began crawling toward the fire. "And too stubborn, and far too martially focused."

"I thought that the mana bomb at Theramore had made it impossible for me to conceive," Jaina admitted quietly. "But even though you never asked me about it, I had always imagined that one day I'd have a child. I never found the right person, though, or the time regardless."

"So you have adopted? Or…" Katherine frowned. 

"He is my son," Jaina told Katherine, and then she got out of the chair to pull Kane away from the fire. "It's too hot, Kane," she whispered, holding him against her. His skin was cold, and she picked him back up and went to close the window. 

"A grandson," Katherine echoed. Jaina hazarded a glance at her, seeing that she had reclined slightly into the chair. "At last. He is a beautiful baby, Jaina." She seemed to startle. "You should have told me that he needed you before I sent you away. He must have still been very small."

"Three months old," Jaina confirmed. "He is younger than you think. But I arranged for his care. He was perfectly fine."

"You missed the sweetest time," Katherine said wistfully. 

Jaina's lip twisted. "I am here now," she told her mother forcefully. "And I'm ready now."

Katherine gave her a searching look, as if somehow she could read the meaning beneath Jaina's words. "But he is an elf," she said, changing the subject. "How is it possible?"

"Half-elf," Jaina told her, releasing her breath. "He is called a _Danas'dorei,_ which means gift of the Sunwell. A child conceived by magic."

"You went to the elves?"

Jaina shook her head. This was the hardest part, the entire reason she'd avoided the conversation for so long. 

Katherine snapped her fingers briskly. "The dragon. You were involved with a dragon with the form of a elf, weren't you?"

Jaina snorted. "I broke that off fourteen years ago, Mother. No, it was someone… unexpected." Kane yawned loudly, breaking the moment, and Jaina remembered that Helda told her he'd need a nap soon. She put him back on the ground, and he leaned against the leg of the armchair. When she took her seat again, he stood up and pulled at her robes.

She picked him up and held him against her chest. He still felt cold to her, so she wrapped her arms around him. 

"I am still learning to be a mother," she chuckled, feeling shy. 

"They grow up so fast," Katherine said softly. "Who is his father, Jaina? It can't be someone eligible for marriage, or you would have told me already."

Jaina braced herself. "Sylvanas Windrunner, former Warchief of the Horde. The one who kidnapped Anduin and brought us all to the Shadowlands."

Katherine laughed. "A fine joke, daughter."

"It was an accident. Elvish magic."

Katherine sobered. "She inflicted something upon you? Did she - was it -"

Jaina laughed sadly, shaking her head. "She had no idea it happened until just before the Shadowlands. She found out, and has been… she is not as evil as you might think."

"Are you in love with her?" Katherine asked Jaina sharply. 

"There are new people in this world who have been through as much as I have," Jaina said quietly, smoothing the fabric of Kane's pants around his ankles. He shifted in her arms, sighing. "There are few people I understand, or relate to, or feel safe at all with. Sylvanas is by no means noble, but she can be true, and she has always done what is best for her people. This time, she took on one of the greatest powers of all, Death himself, and she defeated him." Jaina sighed. "All I want now is to be able to - to have what I want, and to not be ashamed."

Katherine nodded, eyes sad. "That is what you deserve, daughter."

"Thank you," Jaina whispered. 

"Your baby is sleeping," Katherine told her. "I will go downstairs and make the necessary arrangements, assuming that you will be keeping him here with you?" When Jaina nodded, her mother said, "This conversation is not done, but I accept you and your choices. I have learned that lesson, at least. I wish you had told me sooner, but there is no repairing that. Please send Lady Windrunner my regards, and perhaps we will meet one day.

"I'll expect you and Kane for tea in an hour. I look forward to becoming acquainted with the future Lord Admiral." Despite Katherine's stern tone, Jaina detected a hint of playfulness in her last statement, and Jaina smiled back at her mother.

With the door closed behind Katherine, Jaina relaxed a little. Kane was warm now, and the fire crackled. She thought of the rest of the books she had not finished clearing, and the half-open inkwell. She closed her eyes and kissed the crown of Kane's head gently, settling back in the chair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't try that at home - Jaina is more flexible than most people. 
> 
> Hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. Bringing everything to a close.


End file.
